One More Day with You
by Catiegirl
Summary: This is an AU story, that takes place in the aftermath of Diana's wedding. In this story Anne and Gilbert are forced into a conversation that will have far reaching consequences for their relationship. The story is complete, it's sequel is the soon to come 'When Tomorrow Comes'. I hope you enjoy this, please review!
1. Chapter 1

**_For everyone who has come along the ride of Golden Days with me, thank you. Writing these stories has been a wonderful experience for me, and I hope you will enjoy this one. Thanks to Kwak's and many others'encouragement I have started my little AU story (pause for a moment for me to freak out a little), and here it is! The story begins on the day of Fred and Diana's wedding. Here's my 'what if': in the story of Anne and Gilbert, we know those unrealised feelings of Anne's are bubbling under the surface. My thought is that had the circumstances been tweaked, if she could have been forced to be honest, maybe we could have sorted this out a whole year earlier! And that's something I am quite curious about..._**

 ** _Cate._**

* * *

 **One More Day with You**

 _Chapter 1_

A man sat in a train carriage, feigning sleep on the long journey from Charlottetown to Bright River. Unwilling to engage anyone in conversation, unwilling to look into anyone's eyes. Needing the solitude, the darkness behind his eyelids to lull him into numbness. The click of the tracks vibrated through his body as he swayed from side to side, and he welcomed the movement. Rocking him to and fro, carrying him ever forward with a determination he could not manage on his own.

 _One more day. He could do this for one more day._

His thoughts ran, inevitably and resolutely as the track in front of him to the wedding at the end of the line. He would stand up there; he would be the best man. He would make a speech. He would smile and pose for the photographer. He would answer questions about his plans, tell college stories and laugh at the ribald jokes that inevitably follow a wedding. Then he would leave this town- leave the whispers, the insinuations and gossip, leave the place his fledgeling dreams were born.

 _One more day._

As the train began to slow down, he took a deep breath. It was for the sake of his future that he would keep going. There was too much to do to pine, too many good reasons to keep moving on. Too much life that needed living- or so he tried to tell himself. The hollow pain that had become a part of his life more than a year ago had dulled slightly; he could survive that.

The train chugged and lurched into the small station, and for a moment clawing panic filled his chest. Hollow pain was one thing, but this blind terror that was threatening to choke him was not something he could cope with. He set his jaw as he stood up from his seat, and with practice assumed a stoic face as he grabbed his bag from the storage rack. Ignoring the slight shake in his hands, Gilbert Blythe stepped off the train and straight into his mother's arms.

Cora Blythe laughed and cried as she held him. She pulled back to look at his face, and he tried to smile at her.

"Gilbert, oh how I've missed my little boy!" she exclaimed beaming, wiping her eyes. "It's been so long since I've had you home-" She stopped abruptly to look at him closely. "Gilbert, what on earth have you been doing to yourself? Are you eating? Have you been sick?" she asked, worried.

Gilbert pulled himself from her arms to hug his father. "I'm fine, mama. Just busy with school. The boarding house just can't cook as well as you," he said lightly.

John Blythe took the bag from his son and ushered his family towards the carriage.

"We've only got a few hours until you're needed at the Wrights, so best keep moving," John said easily. "Son, what on earth made you decide to arrive at the last minute? You could have spent a bit more time here."

"I'm working, Dad. I was working up till yesterday," he replied logically.

It was the truth, however it had been an easy choice to make as well. He didn't really want to be here for longer than he had to. His insides squirmed with guilt as he looked at his parents, the two people who had always supported him, no matter how far from home it took him. He'd make it up to them one day.

Gilbert settled into the seat next to his mother, looking out at the small town he had grown up in. Avonlea had changed little, although he kept his eyes resolutely away from the woods that surrounded the place. Without the woods he could pretend that she'd never been there- that he hadn't.

In his old home, he turned to meet ghosts of himself everywhere. Happy, contented ghosts that seemed more substantial and real that he was himself right now. Gilbert looked out his old bedroom window, seeing nothing but the fields he had grown up with. Places he had run, read and dreamed, had learned and grown and- his thoughts stalled, as the inevitability of his return sank in. He'd wasted years chasing a dream. He dropped to his bed, spiritlessly lying back on the old bedspread his mother had made. He'd paid for his folly over and over again for fourteen long months. And instead of the debt being settled, he began to fear it was one that would eventually consume him.

He sat up after a few minutes and pulled the suit from his bag. He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. His mother had food prepared for him, had coaxed him to eat, and fussed over his appearance. He had excused himself to put his things away, needing the solitude to gather his resolve. Bile rose in his throat as he thought of the wedding- _his_ best friend, marrying _hers_. The two of them walking up the aisle before the true bride and groom, like some hideous burlesque played out in front of an audience. All the gossip, all the supposition- _poor Blythe, couldn't even get the girl._ What an irony, what a fitting end to his ludicrous fantasies.

 _Just one more day_ … he thought, with gritted teeth. _Surely he could survive just one more day. And then- no more._

His parents had wondered, had written to him of the rumours they had heard recently. He hadn't answered them, they hadn't pressed. He spoke instead of his university life and schoolwork, of the lengths his professors had gone to secure introductions for their star pupil. His mother and father responded with pride, and he was glad to let them know that the scholarships he was aiming for were well within his ability to grasp. He hadn't told them about the letter yet.

Looking at his watch, he stood to his feet slowly. The day would move swiftly, that would help.

* * *

It was shortly before noon when he knocked on the Wright front door. He was met at the door by Fred's mother, who engulfed him in a hug as smothering as his own mother's. She fussed and clucked over him as well, and he was only rescued when her son entered the room needing help with his cuffs.

Fred was red and sheepish, looking proud and only slightly rattled. Gilbert gave him a hearty slap on the back, teasing him about cold feet. He found it easier in the face of Fred's discomfort to keep his own composure, and the two old friends sat down to visit for a time. When the clock was nearing one, Fred jumped up. His family were dressed and busy running around packing heavily laden wagons, and he grabbed Gilbert.

"Got an errand to run first," he muttered. "Come on, this way we don't have to travel with everyone else."

The two of them went out to Fred's new wagon and Gilbert looked at his friend curiously. He hadn't seemed too nervous earlier, but once they were off he was driving faster that Gilbert had ever seen him do.

"What's the rush?" he shouted over the wind, holding onto his hat.

"No rush. Just want to check that something was done." Fred yelled back, a grin on his face.

Ten minutes later, Fred pulled up in front of Abraham Fletcher's old house, the house he would welcome his bride home to come nightfall. Three years of working towards their dream, three years to now be able to give Diana the home she wanted. Gilbert swallowed suddenly at the look on Fred's face as he unlocked the front door. Stepping inside, everything was perfectly clean and ready. Logs lay ready to be lit on the fire, and Mrs Wright had laid brand new dish towels out over the little hooks in the kitchen. Gilbert looked around seeing his best friend's dream and tried to smile. He moved to the vase of flowers in the centre of the table, arranged with a practised hand and containing beautiful flowers from nearby meadows.

"Your handiwork I presume?" Gilbert said lightly.

"No, that was Anne." Gilbert looked at him sharply, but Fred didn't appear to notice. "I wanted something nice- I mean, something beautiful to welcome her home with," he said, flushing. "Anne volunteered to fix them up this morning for me- and she was supposed to ah- do another for the- um- I'll just go check she did that one." Fred ran up the stairs, with Gilbert following slowly, looking through his childhood friend's new home. It was neat and well set out; he could see the two of them living here comfortably. Remembering his cramped, cold boarding house, he sighed. Education certainly had its price.

He unthinkingly followed Fred into the main bedroom and pulled up short. There were beautiful blooms everywhere in the dim room, and Gilbert found himself flushing as he abruptly turned and walked out of there. Fred had a guilty-looking grin on his face and followed him down the stairs.

"Wasn't sure the romantic thing was really me, so I thought I'd get some help. She did a good job." He said with a grin. Gilbert nodded; thankfully Fred wasn't in a talkative mood either. He was, however, sitting so far forward on his seat Gilbert thought a good bump on the road would send him flying over the horse. Gilbert was silent as they neared Orchard Slope, looking at familiar paths littered with the memories of a lifetime ago. The image of the overblown red roses in the bedroom made him breathe deeply. He knew how Anne had struggled with losing her friend to Fred, how she had fought his inclusion in her life. Now she was helping his dreams to come true. Gilbert sighed, trying to rid himself of the image of Anne hunting for flowers in the fields, scattering them in the quiet of the bedroom. He didn't need this. Not today.

 _Eight more hours. He could do eight hours._

* * *

Diana's parents welcomed them to the house, and The Wrights arrived within minutes. Gilbert stepped to one side of the pandemonium, looking around fearfully, expecting to see her at any minute. He wanted to be prepared. Wanted to appear calm and unconcerned, as impossible as that felt right now. Relatives rushed in and out, he and Fred were utilised to bring food in from the waiting wagons. It was set to be a big old fashioned wedding, one he would have enjoyed at any other time. As guests continued to arrive, he practised his nonchalant look, giving airy answers to impertinent questions. Trying to deflect the attention of every gossiping old crone in Avonlea.

A short time later, he and Fred were summoned by the minister. Fred's face was brick red at this point, and he was sent to stand in place. Gilbert was told to collect Diana's bridesmaid, no one appearing to notice the whitening of his face as he went to do so. He walked up the wide staircase, and then she came out of a doorway at the end of the hall.

For over a year he had seen her face turning from him, seen the same pain and fear cover the face that lived in his memory. Seen her across crowded rooms on the arm of another, a chasm away from him. Nothing left to remind them both of the relationship they had once shared, the connection he had mistakenly put his faith in. A year had passed while he had burned with jealousy and a rage at himself that never seemed to diminish, consuming him from the inside.

And now she was standing in the dim hallway with her face turned from him again, adjusting her skirt and her flowers. With a resolve that took every last ounce of strength that he possessed, he walked up the stairs towards her. At the last step he froze.

She was beautiful. With flowers in her hair and her lacy white dress, she could have been a bride herself. Gilbert swallowed again and set his jaw sternly, determined to get through this without betraying himself.

Anne lifted her eyes to meet his for the first time in months, and he saw the shock- saw the hesitation, and then saw something else, something much warmer come over her face. He swallowed and instinctively reached for her hand. He saw Anne draw a shaky breath, and then she smiled at him tentatively as she took it. He felt something prickle behind his eyes and tried to smile back.

Gilbert turned the two of them to walk down the stairs wordlessly, and in the little hallway between the stairs and the parlour he felt her fingers gently squeeze into his arm. Time seemed to stand still for a moment as they waited for the parlour doors to open. He stood there with Anne's hand on his arm, forcing himself to breathe. How he missed her- missed her laughter, the sparkle in her eye. He missed the way she would touch him lightly, tease him and drag him around by the hand when she got excited about something. He missed her prattle, the way she would put her nose in the air when she was putting him in his place. How desperately he missed her presence. In that moment of stillness, even his heartbeat seemed to slow, giving him time to take it in.

He wasn't over her. He doubted he ever would be, now. But if losing her was inevitable, if all the time he had left with her in this world was right now; he would take it against the heartbreak to come. He still had this day.

 _One more day with you._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Anne Shirley hurried over the fields from the Wright place, hoping to make it back to Orchard Slope on time. Looking at the sun overhead she estimated it was just after eleven in the morning, and she would be needed to help Diana soon.

She entered the small wood that separated the road from Diana's home. Far from the sight of people, she sighed in relief and her walk slowed happily. Sunlight flickered through the leaves overhead, the June day perfect for her beloved friend's wedding. On the edge of the wood, she stopped completely, wanting just a few more moments alone. Leaning against a tree and sighing, she closed her eyes. How often had she strolled through these woods? She could imagine younger versions of herself, laughing and playing in their shade; tripping through with baskets for a picnic, carrying books on the way to school, or racing him- Anne brought her thoughts up deliberately. Her eyes cool, she turned from the trees to the pathway to Orchard Slope.

As she entered the gate she looked up at the house. She could see people running to and fro past lacy curtains upstairs, and gave a slight sigh. _I am the bridesmaid,_ she thought with a wry smile. _Whatever the bride needs._ Anne looked down at her hands with a frown. They were scratched and soiled now, hardly what a bridesmaid was required to have. She sighed, a slight smile on her face. It was worth it though, for Diana. The conversation the two of them had had a couple of days ago now came to her mind.

* * *

 _"Just think of it dear, only two more days until your wedding." Anne said, with a happy sigh as they wandered the fields looking for flowers. "Two more days until you are a_ Mrs _, until you belong to the man of your dreams, Di."_

 _"Mmm."_

 _Anne turned to get a better look at her friend. "Diana?"_

 _Diana wore a strange expression on her face, and sighed. "Yes. Two more days."_

 _"What is it, beloved?" Anne asked lightly._

 _Her friend sat down on a nearby fence, and Anne sat beside her. Diana sighed, needing to talk, but not quite knowing how to begin such a conversation. "It's – nothing. My mother just said some things today." she finished lamely._

 _"Oh?"_

 _"About- about the wedding night." Di said, flushing. Anne took a deep breath, knowing the kind of discussion Diana was referring to._

 _"Oh." Her cheeks were slightly pink, but she nodded encouragingly._

 _"I mean, she had a talk with me years ago about all of this, about being prudent and on our guard while we were engaged." She groaned slightly. "And it's not about what goes where; I would guess that's fairly self-explanatory."_

 _She covered her face as Anne chuckled, red faced as well now._

 _"What worries you, Di?" she asked._

 _"It's what mother said. She said that it's a duty." Diana said dully. "That it's not romantic or nice at all, the best you can hope for is to endure it. Anne, I know it's not your problem, and I'm so sorry to be heaping this on you- but I don't know who else I can talk to about this."_

 _Anne sat up, cheeks now as pale as her friend's. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. She reached down and took Diana's hand, and the two of them sat in silence, watching the breeze lay the wild poppies low in the field._

 _"I got that talk from Mrs Lynde three years ago too." Anne confessed suddenly. At Diana's shocked look, she continued, smiling wryly. "I think she assumes college is a hotbed of indecency and dissipation, and sought to prepare me." She then laughed mockingly. "It's really not, Di. We're far too busy. Nevertheless, I passed a very uncomfortable hour in her presence, a few weeks before I left with Gilb- with the others." Her cheeks went pink at the unintended slip. That little talk had unsettled her more than she let on- compounded by Charlie Sloan's goggle eyes, and a Gilbert whose own eyes communicated so much more than she could deal with._

 _Diana sighed. "So what do you think, then?" she asked her friend quietly._

 _"I- I don't see how it can be as simple as that, Diana." Anne said slowly. "That might be how Mrs Lynde and your mother see it, but the way we view it has to count for_ _something_ , _doesn't it?"_

 _Diana looked confused. "Anne, I don't understand what you mean-"_

 _"Well, how romantic is making a cup of tea?" Anne asked unexpectedly._

 _Diana choked slightly. "Well- not at all, really."_

 _"Alright, but what about making your husband that very first cup of tea in your own home?" Anne said, her eyes thoughtful. "Think of the first time you perform that task, with only him in mind? Your hands will pass the cup into his, from your beautiful wedding china set. How proud you will feel to be the one that cares for him, to know he will be accepting that one special little gesture from you all the days of his life?" she finished, with a sigh._

 _Diana laughed, her hands covering bright pink cheeks. "Oh Anne, you dreadful tease, now I'll be too embarrassed to make him a cup of tea!"_

 _"So I'll ask you again, Di- is a cup of tea romantic?" Anne said with an impish smile._

 _Diana smiled at her. "Alright, if it is the one I make for Fred, then yes. It will be." She said, her lashes low on her cheeks._

 _Anne put her arms around the fence post beside her and rested her cheek on the smooth, weathered wood. "Di, if the cup of tea is romantic because of love, how could an act so very intimate_ _not_ _be, if shared with the one you love, and who loves you more than anyone in the whole world?" she asked, her voice soft._

 _Diana gaped at her slightly. "I- I suppose so." she said, bewildered._

 _"I know I'm idealistic, I know I see the world through rose-tinted glasses." Anne admitted. "However I wonder if we used those rose-tinted glasses a little more often, if we continued to look through the filter of love surely we would see as much romance in married life as we do now. Find romance in unexpected places, even unexpected people." she finished absently. She turned to her friend, recollecting herself. "Di, you know these are only my inexperienced thoughts on the matter. But the poets have rhapsodised about the beauty of physical love for millennia- there has to be substance to that, surely." She looked over to see Diana wiping a tear away._

 _"Oh, Di darling, I'm so terribly sorry-" she said remorsefully, but Diana threw her arms around her friend laughing._

 _"Only you would put it like that, Anne. But I think you could be right." she said, beaming._

 _Anne stood up and pulled her off the fence. "We should get back. But it's good to know we can get more flowers out here for the wedding. Do you feel a little better now?"_

 _Diana grinned. "I do." She sighed, and looked at her friend thoughtfully. "I suppose you have been thinking about all of this more often now, what with your relationship with Royal." She added, and Anne stiffened slightly._

 _"I- I suppose so." she replied, her voice constricted._

 _"And are his letters as romantic as he is said to be in real life?" Diana teased, bringing a reluctant smile to Anne's face._

 _"They are- worthy of a novel." she said softly, however the smile had left her face._

 _Diana was perceptive enough to know that she had hit an off note, and was quick to divert the conversation to safer pathways, as they returned to the house on the slope._

* * *

Now, two days from this conversation Anne stood at the small water pump outside the house, washing her hands and wincing as the water streamed over the small scratches and cuts on them. She smiled though, thinking of her friend's pleasure and of the shy look on Fred's face when he asked her about filling their house with flowers. If there had been any lingering enmity in her heart for him, seeing him working so hard to fulfil Diana's dreams would have washed it away completely. She had delighted in the task, and rising early in the morning sought to give their home all the romance that her friend could have desired. She had scoured the fields for the wildflowers that overflowed the vase on the table, arranging each blossom reverently. Under the pine tree that gave Diana's home its name she found the little June lilies and spikes of blossoming rosemary in the overgrown gardens.

She saved the roses Marilla had given her for the little room up the staircase. Finding it difficult to keep her mind from wandering during her task, she could not help thinking of the faraway day when she would be the bride. When love would lead her over the threshold, love would bring her into a room such as this. Anne scattered rose petals in the bedroom, her heart beating quickly, with cheeks as red as the roses that she held in shaking hands.

Suddenly she stood still, her heart thumping terribly. She knew she was alone in the house, Fred had told her where she could find the spare key to let herself in. However, the feeling continued, of something approaching. She pictured someone treading the stairs, someone walking towards her. Someone she _wasn't_ ready to meet. She shook herself, trying to rid herself of the absurd notion. She gathered the remaining flowers with one last glance at her handiwork and closed the door behind her, a slight shiver running along her spine.

Deep in the woods she had remembered- remembered whose presence she had felt. But it wouldn't be across a crowded room, he wouldn't just be a faceless person in a lecture hall. What _would_ he be? Be the person who had seemed to look through her, as he had all this year? The person who had run into her in a library corridor and not spoken; merely tipping his hat in apology to her? The one who now couldn't keep his eyes off the girl every classmate seemed to be whispering about? She felt the anger start to build inside again, and tried to take a calming deep breath. She inspected her hands once again and wiped them on the calico skirt she wore quickly, as she heard her name called from upstairs.

"Anne Shirley!" Mrs Barry clucked from the doorway. "We were expecting you fifteen minutes ago, dear."

"I know, Mrs Barry, I had a small task to perform on behalf of the groom." she said, her eyes twinkling.

"You had better leave that to Gilbert." The older woman fussed, not seeing the reserved look cross Anne's face. "Come upstairs now, it's time you were getting dressed."

Diana was dressed already, and ushered her tardy bridesmaid into the spare room to get herself ready. Anne went, quite relieved, needing some time to bring order to her chaotic mind. She shut the blinds to the small room and sat down on the big old fashioned bed. She looked across at her dress, the pretty folds of satin covered with the little lacy sleeves and bodice. Her reflection in the mirror opposite her was pensive though, and she looked into eyes that she scarcely recognised anymore.

She undressed slowly, her mind wandering. Roy's last letter had not had the usual poetic ring to it, mildly expressing some polite displeasure at her absence for the whole summer. Couldn't she return to Kingsport early? Must she teach in some back woods community for the next two months? Ever so slightly hinting that his family would be pleased to receive her, to meet the young woman who had so captured his heart.

She should have felt happy. Should have blushed and felt little flutters in her stomach at such a thought. But she _didn't_. That was the miserable truth, and no amount of imagination could make that go away. It was too complicated to explain to him, and she knew her words would likely fall on deaf ears.

Roy couldn't understand why she would need to work, and Anne would not discuss her financial situation with him. The summer term would pay for most of her last year of school; another small scholarship she had earned would take care of the rest. And as for returning early, couldn't he understand? She was so far from Green Gables, and would now miss most of the summer with them as well. She needed her home, needed her family. Needed to find herself again in the places she loved. She sighed, trying to dispel the gloom that seemed to have fallen over her so abruptly.

Gilbert would have understood. Gilbert, who knew their island, and worked harder than anyone else she knew to pay his way.

Her lips tightened, an angry tear dropping down her face.

 _Gilbert_ , who barely seemed to feel the distance between them, or miss the friendship they had once had. Gilbert who had sat at Patty's Place not a month ago, teasing Phil about her cooking and arguing philanthropy with Stella all evening, with barely a nod to his old chum. More tears fell now, as they had on that night. Gilbert who had once shared her every thought, every journey, was now as far from her as it was possible to be. He who had walked away from her, and not looked back.

The same Gilbert who was due to arrive at Orchard Slope any minute now.

Anne turned from the mirror, sick at heart. In another life the two of them would have done this together. She would have helped Gilbert compose his speech, and he would have helped her with the flowers. They would have made too many inappropriate comments and been shushed by the minister at the rehearsal. Anne wiped a tear from her cheek again and picked up her dress, holding it to her chest, trying not to cry. He would have travelled back from Redmond with her, and she wouldn't be constantly looking for him in the places they once shared. She was so angry at him- angry that he had created this mess, angry that he could leave her; and so very, very hurt that he had replaced her in his life without a second thought. For a year she had watched his face become a stranger to her- watched his looks become more foreign, his manner aloof. Watched him change from the boy she had grown up with to the cold stranger in the street.

Anne began to dress methodically. For Diana's sake she had to be calm, had to be collected. She could greet him coolly, could be the gracious bridesmaid that Diana needed today. As she braided and coiled her hair, she carefully placed the beautiful little lilies of the valley in her hair. Their calming scent perfumed the small room, and she breathed it in with gratitude. Taking one last look at her reflection, she straightened up, and exited the room into Diana's, where a bride stood ready for her veil.

As the flurry of activity gradually slowed around her friend, Anne stood at her side and handed her the bouquet of pink roses with a smile. As Diana's father came into the room he looked at his daughter mistily, and Anne gave Diana's hand a quick squeeze, knowing that at this moment words were no longer needed. She gently picked up her skirts, and stepped out into the hallway to wait, and stooped slightly to arrange her dress properly.

Anne heard a step on the stairs, and looked up, startled. Gilbert's hazel eyes met her grey ones, and her heart gave a strange jerk. Her hands trembled, and her breathing was fast as she felt the surge of heat fill her body. In that instant, as they looked at each other she felt all the anger, all the pain and rage unexpectedly slip away; and the person she suddenly saw was her beloved friend again.

Gilbert, who gave up the school for her. Who fought with her, played with her, challenged her and encouraged her. Who forgave her over and over again and helped her, and who had stuck by her side as they worked towards their dreams.

She saw him extend his hand to her, and took it unthinkingly. In this moment he seemed to look at her as he once had- that kindred glance that somehow had managed to survive this terrible year. He tucked her arm in his in the old way, and walked her down the stairs without a word. She drew in a nervous breath, breathing out slowly. Whatever had happened between them, he was here now. They would do this together. The doors opened before them, and he looked across at her with a little smile that she returned. The music began, and Anne held onto his arm as he walked them down the aisle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It was to great applause that Fred Wright led his bride onto the dance floor that evening. The platform had been placed under the trees on the old lawn, trees that Diana and Anne had played in as children. Flowers and lanterns adorned the tables that Mr Barry and Mr Wright had conjured from somewhere, covered with the delicacies both families were noted for. The early moonlight shone down on the happy crowd, both those who rejoiced for the bride and groom, and those who enjoyed the gossip a wedding affords.

Anne stood at the sidelines, winking at the tears in her eyes. Diana looked wonderfully happy- and she was moving into a new life now, a life Anne could only imagine. She sighed, and just then she felt a light brush on her arm and jumped.

"Sorry, I didn't have a free hand." Gilbert apologised. He held out to her one of the glasses of punch he had painstakingly carried through the crowds near the tables. "People are fighting over the desserts back there." he said drolly, making Anne laugh.

"Oh good! I had to help make some of those this week." Anne returned merrily, accepting the cup from him. As she lifted the cup to her lips, she paused for an infinitesimal moment, trying to work the lump from her throat that suddenly appeared at Gilbert's thoughtfulness. It was so like old times- and she suddenly felt as if she had never really appreciated his presence before. As they both watched the bride and groom progress in circles on the floor, she looked across at his untroubled face.

It was so good to be with him again, so wonderful to be at home together. So good to see his eyes again, to not be separated by faceless crowds. She felt a slight squirm of guilt, as she reflected on Christine. No doubt Christine made him happy- she was of course very beautiful. Anne was happy for him, she decided, her jaw clenching. So very _happy_ for him.

She had met Christine at a reception for the Redmond Arts Council, having been introduced by some mutual friends. As representatives for the English and Music programmes they had both been kept close to the front, and Christine had seemed quite interested to talk to an _old_ school chum of 'her dear Gilbert's.' Anne had smiled brilliantly, and asked her to talk about her music. She had no wish to discuss Christine's _dear Gilbert_ with anyone, let alone Christine herself. Of course, she did let slip a few things that made Anne grind her teeth- warmly discussing the Blythe _pear_ orchard, and his laudable ambition to become a dentist.

When Roy had come to collect Anne, she had well and truly had enough, and farewelled Christine sweetly. Roy had then walked her home, extolling the virtues of the Stuart family, their wealth and consequence- and speaking approvingly of Gilbert Blythe's good fortune in landing the heiress. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Anne rather shortly told Roy she had developed a terrible headache and would take herself right to bed instead of the moonlit stroll they had planned.

However, on this night Christine and Roy were far away, and she had this night to share with Gilbert once again. As people began to join the happy couple on the dance floor, she asked herself if it was possible for them to rekindle their friendship again. How she had missed him!

He was teasing her about the ever-ready tears in her eyes, and when he finished his drink he held his arm out to her in invitation. Anne smiled at him, and the two of them stepped onto the dance floor. As the whirled around to the lively music, Anne found herself wondering how it had been possible for the two of them to pick up that day where they had left off- it could have been any one of the nights they had shared in years past; before proposals, before hurt and misunderstanding had come between them.

He held her securely and surely, weaving through the other people on the floor. She relaxed in his arms, letting him lead her as had so many times before. She laughed at his little asides about the famous Andrews second left foot, and he grinned down at her warmly. He seemed to pull her a little closer, and she gave a small sigh of contentment.

For Gilbert, it had also been a golden day from the past- an unclouded time with friends and loved ones near. He had spent most of the day at her side. Together they assisted Fred and Diana, together they tackled elderly relatives and disgruntled guests. Their eyes had met twinklingly over tactless comments and bridal jokes, and he had laughed at her as she chased Diana's train around the back yard. He looked down at her now, his throat tightening. If only this could last- or if there were no tomorrow to wake up to. He shook himself, trying to keep his emotions steady. She was here, she was with him. For now it had to be enough.

Some time later, as the formalities of the evening were winding down, Gilbert was introduced as the best man, ready for him to make his toast. Anne was seated beside Diana at the bridal table, and she gave him a confident smile, the one she would give him when they had shared classes at Redmond. Always encouraging, always listening intently. He stood to his feet and opened the piece of paper he had in his pocket. Many speeches he had made before, many times he had ascended a stage to deliver an address- although never before had he felt the need to speak so carefully.

A silence fell across the crowd of guests, and he took a deep breath. He addressed the bride and groom, but perhaps more the beautiful young woman who sat beside them. Shakespeare's Sonnet 116 fell from his lips.

 _"Love… is not love  
Which alters when it alteration finds," _he spoke softly. _  
"Or bends with the remover to remove:  
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,  
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken."_

He folded up the paper, and looked towards the bridal table.

"This is the love the poets spoke about." he said quietly. "It's the love we see when we look at Fred and Diana, and the one we most hope for ourselves. May the steadiness of your love for each other hold you through the tempests of life, may your love not alter as time passes. May you grow together through thick and thin, and may your home be blessed with love and life for evermore."

The room was silent, and eventually applause broke out, when it became clear that Gilbert had finished. Fred and Diana thanked him, and as he sat in his seat beside Anne she leaned across to touch his arm lightly.

"That was lovely, Gilbert." She said, her grey eyes sparkling with tears. "It was a lovely tribute to them." He looked down at her and smiled, not willing to speak lest his own voice betray him. It had been his tribute to _her_ \- although he couldn't tell her that. Perhaps one day she would understand.

When the evening was drawing to a close, Anne and Gilbert walked with everyone to see the bride and groom leave, and stood at the gate watching the two of them drive away, as guests walked back inside.

"What are you thinking of, Anne?" he asked her. She turned her eyes to meet his candidly.

"Of new families, new beginnings." she said softly.

He tried to smile. _Of course._ Like her and Roy. Stubbornly he pushed the thought aside. Whatever would happen after today, this was his last night with her, and he wasn't going to waste it with thoughts of the inevitable end.

"Come on, I think it's time for the best man and bridesmaid to get out of here. Let's see if the Lake of Shining Waters is where we left it." he said, making Anne laugh again. She went to gather her packed bag, and the two of them set out into the night.

Dropping Anne's bag at the gate of Green Gables, Gilbert proposed a walk through Lovers Lane before they went inside. Their conversation was light, and the night beautiful- how then to account for the subtle shadow that began to fall over the two of them? Words seemed weighted with underlying pressure, and each look that passed over their faces was tentative and unsure.

Anne wondered if Gilbert was really enjoying himself- his smile was a trifle forced, and she sensed his mind was not on their conversation. For a brief moment she considered asking him- asking him to tell her what troubled him. Then the words seemed to stick in her throat- the year spent apart, and the ever-present spectre of a mocking Christine made her falter, and stay silent.

Gilbert strode along, his hands in his pockets. He laughed and chatted to her lightly, however it was becoming harder and harder to pretend that this was anything other than the last night he would spend with her. She was looking at him- he wondered if she was trying to trace the old Gilbert in the wreck of the present one- or merely wishing he was someone else. There was a sadness in her eyes that hurt him. Those eyes shouldn't look like that- the look that had first appeared when she told him she could not love him.

As they walked home, he looked at the fields they both loved lying in the clear moonlight. All at once she looked up at him, and their eyes held for a long moment. His breath caught in his throat, and for just a moment he saw a longing in them- a longing for what they once had. He knew it echoed in him, and he nearly spoke. Nearly told her how he missed her- that he was sorry. That he loved her.

A cool breeze swept over them amongst the trees, and a cloud swept over the face of the moon. When he saw Anne shiver, he turned them back towards her home.

As Gilbert stood in front of the gate of Green Gables, he did not look at Anne immediately. The charm of the night was undeniable, and he felt himself falling under its spell- or was it hers? He looked at her face, now looking dreamily out into the night, and then the reality of his situation hit him like a thunderbolt. She was lovely, she was enchanting- but she wasn't his. Anne never would be. She would belong to Roy- she would become the property of a wealthy old family soon; forgetting about him, forgetting about the island. The night was only an illusion.

In that moment he paid for every second of the day he had stolen- every moment of delight in her presence now running through him like a knife. He was an idiot, a fool.

He should never have come home.

Gilbert stumbled back from the gate, his face pale; and Anne looked at him, alarmed.

"Are you alright Gil?"

The sound of his name coming from her lips was too much for him, and he shut his eyes against the agony of it.

"Fine. Just tripped." He drew a shaking breath, and turned to her, his face as calm as he could make it. "I should really get going."

He saw the look of sadness cross her face, and he smiled at her, wanting to ease the moment. In the prolonged silence, he took her hand in his and swallowed, hoping she didn't see the way he was trembling.

"I'll let you go, it's been a long day." he said lightly, not daring to look her in the eyes. "It's- it's been a privilege."

When he dared to look up, it was her face that had gone white, and he shuddered at the confusion he saw on her face. "I'll see you at school in September, remember?" she said uncertainly.

He blinked furiously and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek as he had once done so long ago. "Goodbye, Carrots." he whispered, and turned from her to walk down the lane. He heard her call his name and began to run.

There was no more time; and he would pay dearly for living in a dream that could never be his. He ran through the trees they had grown up playing in, the woods they had rambled when they were little more than children. Through places she had named, and the secret corners he had taken her to. In the heart of the forest, at the foot of the oldest tree he collapsed, great choking sobs finally overtaking him.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The moon had shifted over the trees when Anne bent down to retrieve her satchel. She had stayed at the gate, frozen. Why had Gilbert's farewell been so strange– so _final_? She would see him soon. He would be back at Redmond in the fall; she would see him across the halls as she had before. Perhaps today would change things- perhaps he would see her and wave; perhaps they would compare notes on classes. Perhaps everything would be alright.

The cold feeling in her heart persisted though, and she walked towards the kitchen mechanically. She could see Marilla and Mrs Lynde through the windows, evidently enjoying a late cup of tea together and gossiping about the wedding. As she stepped through the door the ladies turned towards her in welcome.

"Anne, you look exhausted!" Rachel said, prompting the mere ghost of a smile on the girl's face.

"I am. I think if you don't mind, I will go right to bed." Anne replied, carefully avoiding her eagle eyes.

Marilla was on her feet, and had crossed to take the bag from her. In front of Rachel she would not ask, however the question lingered in her eyes.

"I'm alright. I just need to get some sleep." Anne said to her softly, and gave her a quick hug.

"You were beautiful today." Marilla said quietly, so that only Anne could hear her. Anne smiled at her, and Marilla stepped back. "It was good to see Gilbert today too." she added carefully. A muscle seemed to spasm in Anne's cheek at that, and she gave a brief nod.

Rachel stood to collect some letters from the mantelpiece.

"These arrived this morning. I think you have one from that Kingsport beau of yours, Anne." She bustled over to the girl, who took the envelope without a word, and walked up the stairs. Marilla followed her with stricken eyes. She hadn't wanted to believe that her girl would know the heartache she once had, but if the look in her eye was any indication, that had already happened.

Upstairs Anne entered her room, and quietly locked the door behind her. Not from a fear of anyone coming in; rather the feeling that she needed as many barriers as she could between herself and the rest of mankind tonight. Roy's letter was thrown onto the desk unopened, and Anne sat down on her bed in the darkness. Eyes that suddenly hurt turned to the window, where the moonlight shone in through the fine lace curtains. She walked over to the window, and pulled the blind behind them closed, so that the room now lay in complete darkness.

She undressed quickly and climbed into bed. Allowing her muscles to relax, and allowing her mind to form the thoughts she had been fighting.

Diana was married, was gone. Gilbert had moved on. And things would return to the way they had- she knew that now. Back to being separated from each other by an invisible canyon, back to a world where they were strangers. She closed her eyes and pulled her pillow over her face. It _hurt_. It hurt in a way she had never become reconciled to. Were all friendships destined to move apart, when life changed? Was there _anything_ left for her to hold onto?

Her thoughts flew back to that April day more than a year ago. The last time she had really seen her friend. For a brief moment she wondered if saying yes to Gilbert could have saved this heartache- if maybe it could have been worth it. She shook her head in the darkness dully. Friendship wasn't enough, Gilbert had said that himself.

Anne tossed and turned in bed, becoming exasperated at herself. Enough moping about the past. These moments were coming too often now, a discontent that seemed to grow the longer she spent away from home. Where had her optimism gone? She was truly fortunate. She was at college, in the place she had dreamed of for so long. Brilliant, keen minds that challenged her. Teachers that pushed her to excel and believed in potential. A house full of beloved friends, a home to come back to in the holidays.

And of course Roy. Anne thought guiltily of the letter on her desk. She would have to read it tomorrow.

She drifted off to sleep eventually, with the same song playing over and over in her mind. The song he had danced with her to, his hands holding her steadily. _Strange_ , she thought wistfully, as sleep overtook her. She could almost feel them on her still.

* * *

Sunday morning dawned, welcomed by a brilliant red sunrise. It was with whispers that Marilla conveyed to the others that Anne was not to be disturbed. Thus when Anne woke up, the sun was already high in the sky, and Green Gables was empty. She came down the stairs, yawning languidly, and reveling in the peace and quiet.

Truthfully, she didn't want to see anyone. The silence worked on her like a balm, as she leisurely made her breakfast. She spent a lazy morning at home, where she did nothing more than drink tea, and read on the front porch. The day was getting quite warm when she at last put her book down, and she sighed, knowing the family would soon return from the Sunday service. Anne stood up restlessly, and then suddenly laughed. It was her summer break- surely she had earned a holiday! She moved indoors to quickly pack a satchel. What she needed was fresh air- open spaces, and wildness. And _no_ impertinent questions.

Anne quickly scribbled a note to Marilla letting her know that she was heading to the shore, and later to the Barry's to help Diana's mother restore the house after the wedding. Marilla would not expect her back until evening. Anne stepped out of the gate, feeling delightfully free. As the gate shut behind her, she swung down the lane, feeling more like herself than she had in a while.

The beach was a place of wild splendour that afternoon. The sea sparkled in the warm sunshine, and Anne sat down on the sand happily. The sound of the wind whistling through the long grasses on the dunes seemed to echo through her- a sound that spoke of freedom. Anne chuckled, as she took the pins out of her hair. Yesterday had been about tradition and propriety, dignity and restraint. Today there was no one to see, no one to criticise…

She took off her shoes and stockings, enjoying the feel of the sand under her toes, and gave a loud sigh. Here was peace! The waves crashed loudly on shore, and the heat coming off the sand was soothing. Anne spent a happy couple of hours walking along the shore, gathering shells and examining the rock pools on the edge of the beach. Really, it was a shame Kingsport had no shore like this.

When she had had her fill of wading in the shallows, she came back to her bag and pulled an apple from it, dislodging Roy's letter. She gave a sigh, looking at his neat penmanship on the envelope. Dear Roy. He had written her often through the summer break, describing the wondrous places he and his family had toured this summer. Anne smiled. As wonderful as his holiday had sounded, she wouldn't exchange this time on her own Island for anything. She slit the envelope and began to read.

 _Dearest Anne,_

 _Forgive me for the impatience I wrote the last letter in, it was unkind of me to wish you away from the home that you love. It is only that I wish you to be so much nearer, and I long to introduce you to my own people. To me you are a flower plucked from the wilderness, of such exquisite beauty that it must be preserved. Not for you the obscurity of the country garden, but a golden conservatory to keep it safe from the world. My darling, such it must be if I am to have the honour of-_

Anne sighed and skimmed down the letter. It was sweet and romantic, but- a trifle cloying. Stella had certainly commented on his tendency to smother, something Phil had roundly abused her for. As for _herself_ -

At that moment, a sudden breeze caught the letter from her lap, and Anne made a wild grab to catch it before it went flying out to sea. As she stood up to chase it down the beach, she looked at suddenly darkening skies in some alarm. Great black banks of cloud were rising in the north, and spikes of lightening could be seen in the distance. Where on earth had this come from? Or was she so distracted that she had missed the signs?

Quickly, she grabbed her belongings and threw her shoes on haphazardly. As she turned to run up the slope she took one last look at the ocean, now churning and boiling in front of the oncoming storm. The rain began to fall before Anne had gone far, and small branches were breaking off in the wind. She looked in some fright at the darkness that had almost eclipsed the sunshine, and knew she would never make it to Green Gables in time. No other house lay on this path, the closest was the old schoolhouse. As a large branch fell on the path behind her, she gave a startled cry and made for the building swiftly.

Thanking God for her time as the schoolmarm, Anne found the spare key under the mat with shaking hands, and let herself into the building. She closed the door behind her with the wind howling outside, and drew a shaking breath. There was little light in the room, and she moved into it shivering. Was this to be her refuge for the time being? She should have seen the storm coming, and been safely at the Barry's by now. Lost in her thoughts, and berating herself harshly, she swung around when the door banged open behind her and a large shape thudded through the doorway. Anne let out a screech of terror, throwing her bag instinctively at the intruder, only to be met with an indignant " _Hey_!"

She stopped, her heart pounding painfully. "Gilbert?" she gasped.

" _Anne_?"

Only one terrified thought went through Gilbert's mind, as he looked at the shivering girl in front of him.

He really couldn't do this. He couldn't do another day.

* * *

After a few minutes, while the two of them tried to catch their breath, Anne moved away to a small cupboard on the side of the classroom. In what little light she had she peered inside, looking for the matches. There was a lamp in there as well, thankfully full of kerosene. These she pulled out, taking them to the desk, where a curiously immobile Gilbert now sat, trying to gather his thoughts.

"How- how did you know that was there?" he asked.

Anne looked at him curiously. "I was the teacher here, remember."

"I don't suppose there is any firewood that you know of?"

Anne shrugged, looking around at the classroom. "There used to be a stash of it kept behind the schoolhouse. It all depends whether the storm has reached it yet."

Without a word Gilbert walked out the doors into the rain, and Anne leaned on the desk for a moment, trying to get her bearings. A few minutes later he returned, his arms full of small pieces of wood.

"There's enough to do us for now." he said, dropping the bundle by the old stove. "The rest is soaking. I suppose in an emergency we could use the chairs."

Anne looked at him in amazement. "Gilbert, what exactly are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same." he said, carefully checking his hands for splinters.

"No, I asked you first."

"Fine." he said coolly. "I was at the Wright's picking up some things my mother lent the family for the wedding. I assumed I would make it home before this hit, but I misjudged the storm's speed." He looked over at her, his eyebrows raised.

Anne rolled her eyes. "I went to the shore this afternoon." she said reluctantly. "I wasn't paying attention to the sky, and the storm was at the beach almost before I realised it was there. This was the closest shelter. I- um- What are the odds of this happening to both of us at the same time?" she said awkwardly.

"Pretty good I would think." Gilbert said with a sardonic chuckle. "You and I wandering the woods. You and I getting caught in bad weather. Some things never change." He muttered. Anne's chin came up slightly, however she said nothing. Gilbert opened the fireplace and began to stack the wood inside. She looked around at the classroom, trying to see what else they could use.

"I suppose we should be glad we're not by ourselves. I could imagine it being a bit frightening alone." Anne said suddenly.

"If you didn't shut your imagination down, yes." He said unemotionally. Once the fire was lit, he turned to her, wiping his hands on his trousers.

"Well, I suggest we make the best of it for now. The storm is only just getting started, and there is debris flying everywhere out there. We're safe, we have a fire, and I got sent home with a chunk of wedding cake if we get desperate." He added, unconcerned.

Anne gave him a peculiar smile. "I have some food too. I wasn't hungry at my picnic. We don't have any water though."

Gilbert merely looked at her, and then pointed to the window where the rain was falling heavily. Anne felt her cheeks flush.

"Well, of _course_ I know it's out there." she said, embarrassed. Far from the courteous old friend she had spent the day with yesterday, this Gilbert seemed to be trying to unsettle her deliberately- quite successfully, in fact. In the silence that followed, Anne wandered around the classroom trying to keep herself from meeting his eyes. Internally she wondered what was underneath the brittle exterior Gilbert was presenting, if she had somehow offended him. The _old_ Gilbert she would have asked- but then the old Gilbert would have simply confronted her.

She walked back to retrieve her satchel, and set the food items she had remaining on the desk. She sat down in the dim corner to pull her stockings on properly- thankfully they were still dry, and Gilbert was tending to the newly lit fire. Assessing her clothing, there was a small rip on her skirt, and she was slightly wet- other than that she appeared to be fine. She looked across at Gilbert, and an unholy laugh threatened to bubble to the surface at the strange predicament she now found herself in. What on earth would Royal Gardner say about this?

"You need to get warm." Gilbert said abruptly. "The fire should be hot enough by now."

Anne came to sit on the old mat. "You need to as well, you're wetter than I am."

Gilbert nodded and sat down as well. He seemed uncomfortable, however Anne was at a loss to figure out what to do to make it better. Maybe this was the new _normal_ , now. She felt a slight anger go through her. She was _perfectly_ happy to play nice, to get through this as calmly as they could. If he didn't want her friendship, then so be it. She wouldn't beg.

The silence was growing more uncomfortable by the minute, and Gilbert tried to glance at her surreptitiously. She looked stiff and was staring straight ahead- again, a far cry from last night. But last night was an age ago- and going back was more pain that it was worth. Still, they would have to survive the night- by the time this blew over, it would be well past midnight. Gilbert suddenly and silently convulsed with laughter, shocking his companion speechless. He had just twenty-four hours more in Avonlea- and now most of it was going to be spent with her. It seemed that Providence had met his request for one more day.

Providence had a twisted sense of humour.

"So, Miss Shirley." He said, his voice heavy with irony. "What will we do to occupy ourselves until dawn?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

As the wind howled outside and rain lashed the boards of the school, Anne looked around the room remembering her time as the teacher. Here she had set assignments, read poetry to her pupils. She had sat the children on the floor for story time, completely horrifying the visiting superintendent. She had set fire to the old stove with fireworks, and whipped poor Anthony- who had yet respected his young teacher more because of it. Here she had had triumphs and failures, learned what it was to educate eager young minds- and some not so eager.

She wandered over to the small bookcase on the side, checking for items the new teacher had added. Another clap of thunder, and Anne peered outside cautiously. The rain was falling so heavily that the surrounding trees were rendered invisible, and as a branch was slapped against the glass, she let the curtain fall and went back to the fireplace for warmth.

Gilbert had spent the intervening time scouring the place for useful items. He had found some broken boards that would serve as fuel for the fire, and an axe to split it. He even unearthed an old blanket from the top cloakroom shelf. This he brought in, placing it in front of the fireplace silently.

At sunset Anne was in the cupboard again, looking for something to serve as a plate for the two of them. When she had left Green Gables that morning she had taken some cookies and fruit, this was added to the wedge of fruit cake Gilbert pulled from his bag. He had tossed it inside the door in his hurried entrance, and now set about checking the items inside.

"Is anything damaged?" Anne asked.

"Looks fine. A few silver candlesticks and some tablecloths. Blythe family heirlooms." he said with a bitterness that made Anne flinch. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Sorry." he muttered. "It's been a long day."

Silently she took the food over to the fireplace, and sat down near the hearth. Gilbert took the old bucket into the doorway, and the schoolroom was blasted with cold as he filled it cautiously from the overflowing gutters. Two small vases in the cloakroom would serve as temporary glasses, and pushing the door closed, he carried them over to where Anne was sitting. She looked over at him slyly, her mouth twitching. After a minute, he noticed.

" _What_?" he said, gruffly.

"None of this strikes you at all funny?" she said in a tentative voice.

"No. Not really." he said with a shrug. At her raised eyebrow he gave a reluctant smile. "Alright, some of it is." They ate silently for a time, and partly in response to the tension Anne began to giggle. Gilbert couldn't stop an answering chuckle, and it broke a little of the tension between them. He then poured them each a vase of water, and handed her one of them with a wry smile.

"To your health and happiness, Anne." He took a swig from his own, and pulled a face. "Ah. Essence of rotting flowers. At least it's wet."

Anne smiled and picked up an apple, and looked out into the dim classroom. "I don't suppose I'll be seeing the inside of this building for quite some time." She said thoughtfully.

"I haven't seen it since I picked you up from here in our last week of teaching." He said after a minute.

"Before the AVIS concert."

"That's right."

There was a long silence, and Anne looked across at his closed face, and she took a deep breath. "Gilbert?" she whispered.

He stood up quickly, and walked to the other side of the room, ostensibly to check the progress of the storm out the window. The glass was vibrating in the frame, and he stepped back quickly.

"It's getting wild out there." he said, and turned towards her. "I was on the ferry overnight to come back here, so I haven't slept that much lately. I think it's best that we attempt to sleep out the storm. You take the blanket near the fire." he said gently.

When she found her voice, she said- "What will you use?"

"I've got the tablecloths and a heavier coat, and the desk will shelter me from the draught."

Anne nodded back silently. They had clearly moved beyond the point where they could talk normally, and she found herself too tired now to try and make sense of him. She pulled her knees up to rest her face on them, the fire warm at her back. He picked up the items and moved into the shadows, however Anne sat in miserable silence for a long time.

It must be about ten o clock, by her guess. Gilbert had turned off the lamp to conserve the fuel, and most of the room was now in deep shadow. A tear fell down her face, however she didn't bother to wipe it away. The stress of the last few days, and especially the last few hours were taking their toll, and she felt pessimistically that what she _really_ needed was to have a good cry.

Loneliness seemed to press in on her from every side, and the wall of silence on her right was a piercing reminder of that fact. Anne brushed hot tears from her cheek, biting her lip to keep silent. She wanted to be at home- somewhere far away from this place. She missed Priss and Stella and Phil. She missed the companionship of Patty's Place, the ease and friendliness. Was there truly no home for her here anymore? Was Roy _right_ , was it to Kingsport that she belonged now?

The rain still fell heavily an hour later, and only then did she sit up and stretch. She sighed, supposing she should try and sleep. Obviously Gilbert was able to. She scowled slightly at that, and restlessly stood up to tiptoe out to the window. She could see nothing out there, but the rumble of thunder was ever present. She shivered and went back to the fireplace. As she sat down, she picked up a biscuit from the slate she had used as a plate, and crumbled a small piece off it moodily.

"You can't sleep either?" came his voice suddenly.

Anne looked across, her face wary, but answered him. "No."

"Neither can I."

The firelight threw large shadows of him onto the far wall as he clambered up from behind the desk. He walked over to the hearth slowly, and sat down near her in front of the fire. There was silence between them for a while, until Gilbert finally spoke.

"I'm sorry. I just didn't expect to see you tonight."

Anne's eyes stung, but she lifted her chin. "I understand." She turned her face from him carefully, blinking back an unseen tear.

He gave a wry chuckle. "No, I doubt that you do."

Anne's lip trembled, but she carefully held any emotion back. "Were you just playing a part then yesterday?"

She heard him sigh, but he didn't respond immediately.

"No."

The silence this time was prolonged and uncomfortable. Anne sat rigidly, trying not to give herself away, and Gilbert looked out into the darkness for some time.

"Can things ever be the way they were between us?" he asked her slowly.

Anne stared at him, and she could see by the look on his face that it wasn't a question. Her lips tightened, and she shook her head mutely.

"Then for this time that we have left, can we please just tell each other the truth?" he said in a quiet voice. Anne could only look at him with wide, frightened eyes. "I don't think there is anything that can stop life moving us apart. You chose your path, and I chose mine." She was still silent, and he sighed. "I just wanted another day with you yesterday. I wanted to spend one more day with us the way we used to be."

Anne blinked hard, trying to digest his words. Her head was now pounding, and she clenched her fists in a barely repressed fury. "And what of today? Was it too hard to manage one more?" she asked, her voice tight.

"Yes." he said frankly.

Anne folded her arms across her chest, wanting to hold back the betrayal she felt. "Then I won't trouble you any more." She went to rise, and Gilbert grabbed her wrist firmly.

"Anne, you are _not_ going out into the storm now, it could get you killed." he said, in so rational a voice that she wanted to scream. "I'm sure neither Marilla nor Roy would appreciate that."

She snatched her hand away from him, cursing the fact that he could still predict her. "If I am such a nightmare to be around, it's a wonder you could even make it through the wedding with me." she said bitterly.

Gilbert sighed. "I don't think you are a nightmare, Anne."

"I thought we were telling each other the truth."

Gilbert's shoulders suddenly dropped. There was a curious relief in dropping the façade. He couldn't pretend everything was alright anymore. And with the two of them trapped in a storm, he suddenly didn't have to. Maybe- just maybe this was the chance to get some closure.

"It _is_ the truth." he said deliberately. "It's- just hard to- I don't know how to be together again. Fourteen months is a long time."

"And two weeks." she said in a dull voice. "Fourteen months and two weeks."

Gilbert looked over at her curiously.

Anne pulled her legs up to her chest again, and had her face turned from him. Her pride was being battered down by a cry that seemed to come from deep within her. She fought to stay silent, but without intending to found herself pleading with him.

"What happened to us?" she choked.

Gilbert looked at her, his mouth open. "You can't be asking me that? You _know_ the answer."

"I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about you and I!"

"There _is_ no you and I!" he said heatedly.

At this Anne sprang up, and walked away, wanting nothing more than to get away from him. The hurts seemed to multiply inside her, and she was rapidly losing the battle to keep it inside. Gilbert hadn't moved, but she still heard his defeated voice.

"It's not what I want Anne, but it happened. We can't change that."

"If we wanted to we could." she said, with a sob that wrenched his insides. "I thought that was what was happening yesterday. I thought you were back- that we could find some way to be friends once more."

Gilbert groaned, his head in his hands. He watched her slump against the far wall, listening to the broken tears of a lost child. He was incapable of fixing this- unable to make everything work again. However, he knew he would be haunted forever if he didn't try.

Summoning the strength he had left, he stood to his feet only to walk like an old man over to her. He knelt down carefully, looking at her small, hunched figure. _Never_ had he seen her like this, and the sight seemed to tear him apart all over again.

"Anne, I'm sorry." he said softly. "If there was any way I could make this better I would. But we can't pretend this away. I care about you. I always will. But you don't need me." At this her chin came up, and he looked in shock at the depth of pain he saw on her face.

"Maybe the truth is that you don't need _me_." she said in a bitter voice he hardly recognised. Gilbert could only look at her, nonplussed. "You have made it very clear how little I meant to you this year."

The blood began pounding in his veins, as he repeated her words quietly. "How _little_ you meant?"

"Yes." she said wildly. "You let our friendship go, you moved on from me. You won't look at me or talk to me, and everything we ever shared is simply gone. I have to hear about your life from the gossip at Redmond, and I have to watch as you replace me with someone else."

Gilbert got back to his feet, and turned from her quickly. There was silence for a moment, and then the tight control he had over himself suddenly snapped.

"Are you _kidding_ me, Anne?" he said, his voice growing more furious by the second. "This is _you_ \- _you_ walked away from me, _you_ moved on. You replaced me with _him_. Did you really think that I would just be able to stick around for that? Having Roy rubbed in my face at every turn, after you tell me that you can't and never will love me?"

"I _never_ replaced you with him." she said, angry tears streaming down her face. "When you left I lost my best friend. I lost _you_ completely. And if I meant anything to you it wouldn't have happened."

Gilbert let out a groan. "Anne, I asked you to _marry_ me. Tell me, what is the exit strategy when a girl tells you your suit is unacceptable? That you aren't to ever speak of it again? Was I meant to just stick around and play cheerful buddy till the end of time?" he said plainly. Anne stood to look at him across the classroom aisles, seeing eyes that had grown cold with pain.

"No." she said, defeated. "You did just what you had to do." She walked back to the fire, and huddled near its hearth again. Gilbert saw her shiver, and after a moment moved to hand her the blanket, which she accepted with a curt word of thanks. She moved to one side, allowing him to get some warmth from the fire. There seemed nothing left to say, and Anne wished dully that she could simply sleep away the pain of the night. To her surprise, Gilbert gave a sigh in the quiet and spoke.

"How could you think it didn't affect me?"

Anne looked at him, guarded. "Because it didn't look like it did."

"Well, bravo for me." He turned to her, self-mocking. "I don't sleep anymore, Anne. I get maybe three, four hours at the most. So I study."

Anne looked at him, aghast. " _Gilbert_ \- "

He cut her off gently. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

She was silent for a time. "I was worried about you." she eventually said, and he looked at her warily. "I thought it seemed like you'd lost weight." she said uncomfortably.

"So have you."

She jumped slightly at that, and the two of them were quiet for long minutes. "We'll be alright." Gilbert said quietly, seeming to be trying to convince himself. "Maybe now we can- we can move on properly." He got to his knees, and turned to put another block of wood on the fire. As he closed the door, he kept his hand on the handle for a short time. He turned back to stare into the classroom again, and took a deep breath. He may as well tell her now.

"I'm not going back to Redmond."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6….**

Anne looked with a frozen face back at Gilbert in the dimness, sure she had misheard. "What did you say?"

He folded his arms against his knees, and looked down at them studiously. "I'm not going back to Redmond."

Anne rose to her knees, searching for some way to respond to this unexpected announcement.

"You can't just do that-" she gasped, her eyes wide and frightened.

"Actually, I can." he said slowly. "Would you like to hear why?" He watched her jaw and fists clench, and she sat back on her heels to look at him. Anne raised her eyebrows, and he took that as invitation enough.

"I've been doing rather well at Redmond lately, as you might imagine with several extra hours of study each night." he said, self mockingly. "And that attracted some attention from the Chancellor of the university."

Anne looked at him, speechless.

"There was a scholarship available for one applicant to study at Oxford for a year. I- I won it."

Anne dropped to the floor. "But- but how? I never even heard that being announced-" she said confusedly.

"It's only for the science faculty. Information is only given out at the Dean's discretion."

"In England." she whispered, her eyes glassy.

He nodded.

"I only just heard back from them a week ago."

Anne got to her feet as if sleepwalking. She went to the door and opened it to the sound of pouring rain, causing Gilbert to spring up. "Anne, you can't go out there now-" he said sharply, only to see her stop in the entryway.

"I'm not-" she mumbled. "I just needed _air-_ ". She stood there for a moment, taking long, deep breaths. He closed the door firmly, and she turned to him. Her head came up, and for a moment he nearly stepped back, at the rage he saw on her face.

"You would never have told me if we hadn't been stuck here," she said, her voice shaking. "You would have let me worry- you would have vanished without ever letting me know." Her voice rose in an unbearable anguish. "Of all of the things I have seen that show me how little you value me, this is the worst, the most cruel, _hurtful_ -" she choked and turned from him, her body shaking with great sobs.

Gilbert stood helplessly, watching her fall apart and not knowing how to act. Feeling like the worst of fools, he put his arms around her. She fought his hold for a moment, but when he only held her tighter, she slumped against him, and cried in his arms as she never had before. Her knees gave way, and he sank to the floor with her holding her tightly, tears streaming down his own cheeks. For long minutes they sat there together, consumed in their grief.

When her crying had subsided a little, he spoke to her softly. "Anne, I'm going because I _have_ to. I can't just keep pretending that I've been alright. I'm- I'm not. There's a good chance for me to start again there. And it's only a year."

She broke away from him then. "Redmond was your dream."

"I know it was."

"Then _stay_." she pleaded desperately.

"Anne, I _can't_."

Fresh tears fell now, and she turned back to him. "Then I'll leave."

" _No_." he said impatiently. "Anne, I will complete my degree at Oxford; for Pete's sake, this is not a bad opportunity. _Your_ life is in Kingsport now. You need to live it."

She began to laugh, her voice bitter. "Gilbert, I at least needed to see you. To know that you were alright. I needed, even at a distance, to know that you were happy, that you were working on the things you wanted."

"I _am._ "

"But then I wanted to see you too," she added recklessly. "Because I missed you- and even if you were not speaking to me, at least I still had that."

Gilbert stood, dumbfounded. "Anne, I- I'm sorry. I didn't think you cared."

"And _bravo_ for me." she said flatly, bringing a reluctant smile to his mouth. She sat in front of the fire, cross-legged as she used to do in the old days. She stretched her shoulders and arms out and gave him the merest glance when he sat beside her.

"What a mess." he muttered rubbing his eyes wearily. She nodded, silently, and then to his surprise, she snorted.

"Makes the "carrots" incident seem tame, really."

Gilbert smiled, and there was a silence in the darkened room again. "I never thought about what it would be like for you to not know where I was," he said, his voice sombre. "That was thoughtless, and I'm sorry."

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't care?" Anne said, her voice tight. He sighed, but gave a short nod. Anne's eyes were stinging, and she shrank into herself to try and keep her pain hidden. She wrapped her skirts tightly around her legs, shivering at the draught coming across the bare, worn floorboards. It was with an effort that she continued.

"What of Christine?" she said in a neutral voice. "I imagine she won't wish you to go."

"Probably not." he said with a shrug.

"She is- very beautiful," Anne said slowly.

"Oh yes, very beautiful." he said in a strange voice. "Look, I don't know why you are bringing her up."

Anne let out a choked cry at this. "Remember, Gilbert, I had to watch you form an attachment too. When you proposed I _lost_ you- and then I had to see someone else in your world. And it had to be someone who outclasses me on every level."

Gilbert threw his hands up in frustration. "Why should it even matter? _You didn't want me!_ " he almost shouted. "And how long was it until Roy showed up? Don't you think that hurt me to see how easily _I_ was replaced?"

Anne's grey-green eyes were sparkling dangerously. "He _never_ replaced you. You- _you_ took yourself away- you wouldn't listen to me, you kept pushing- you never even gave me a choice-" she said, her voice breaking.

Gilbert slammed his fist onto the ground, and she shrank back, startled. Compressing his lips to try and control himself, his voice shook. "Don't you think I know that?" he said tightly. "You think I haven't regretted that every _moment_ since that day? Anne, we went from two people who found every secret and hidden place in Avonlea together, who shared _everything_ , to you being afraid to be alone with me. Did you think that wouldn't hurt? That started long before I proposed. And you kept pushing me away."

"Gilbert, I was scared-"

"What do you think _I_ was? I was _losing_ you and I panicked. You will _never_ know how much I regret speaking. I took a gamble, and I lost what little of you I had." He then laughed mirthlessly. "Of course Roy would still have come- and I still would have failed."

Anne sat up then, her eyes scorching. "Gilbert, when did I _ever_ go looking for someone else when we were together?" she said, her voice shaking. "When I had your friendship I had _everything_ I wanted. I wasn't _looking_ for anything else. And you act as if I never cared- I told you then, that there was no one I cared about more. But my friendship wasn't enough for you and so I lost _everything_."

Gilbert's head fell on outstretched arms, and there was a brief silence.

"So did I." he said, defeated.

Anne sat back down, exhausted. "Roy- just happened. I didn't plan it, and I was- lonely." she finished.

Gilbert picked up a shard of wood from beside him, and deliberately broke it into pieces. "I was too. I suppose that's where Christine came in." he said slowly.

To Anne's utter bewilderment at that moment, he tossed the pieces away and reached up to the nearby desk. He pulled the slate containing the remaining wedding cake onto the floor next to them.

"You can eat at a time like this?" she asked him weakly.

He shrugged. "Call it a midnight feast. I'm hungry," he said. "Shouting really builds up an appetite." He then offered some to Anne, who broke off a small piece with a wry smile. The wind howled around the eaves of the building, sending spatters of rain across the nearby windows. Gilbert saw Anne's head raise at the sound. "It's alright, the windows will hold." Her shoulders dropped in relief. "So is there anything else we need to yell at each other about?" he asked, with the shadow of his old grin in place. "Now's the time."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'll keep thinking."

He chuckled, and then his face became fixed. "Does he really make you happy?" he asked slowly.

Anne froze, not having anticipated this question. The silence lengthened in the room, and Gilbert turned to poke another piece of wood into the small stove. When he eventually turned, she was looking at him with huge eyes, unable to say anything. Where was the small _yes_ that should be flying to her lips? Was the schoolroom bewitched, that she should be unable to answer so simple a question? When Gilbert looked squarely at her, she recoiled, tucking her feet under her now badly crumpled skirt.

"I don't know what you mean." she whispered.

"I'm not just asking because this is my last chance to do so. I'm asking because whenever I've seen you, at classes or at social events, all I see is how calm and composed you look. All the time. You don't laugh, you don't show any expression at all. That's not the Anne Shirley I knew."

"Maybe that _is_ me now." she said, her voice distant.

He sighed dejectedly, pushing his fingers through his hair. "Does he ever make you laugh? Has he- ever seen you get angry? Or does he know what you're like when something crushes you?" he asked. "Does he understand what this island means to you, or how hard you worked to get where you are?"

"He doesn't _need_ to see all those things." she said, desperately.

He suddenly looked at her for a long minute, his eyes suspicious. "Anne, those things are important because they are a part of you- if he doesn't see that side of you, how can he know you? Do you not trust him?"

"What makes you think this is about trust?" Anne said, incensed.

"Anne, it's you. Of _course_ it's about trust." he said flatly. "And you don't need to defend that to me, _I_ know why you find it hard. Does he?" he said, his hazel eyes seeming to gaze straight into those of her younger self. The easy lie that would bring an end to this conversation would not leave her mouth, and she struggled in vain to close the doors to her insecurities that he was opening.

"Gilbert, you don't need to concern yourself-"

"Anne, _tell_ me you told him about your childhood." he said quietly. Her silence was all the answer he needed. "Roy doesn't know anything, does he?"

She closed her eyes, beaten.

 _"Anne_ -" he said horrified, his voice cracking under the strain.

"You don't understand, Gilbert," she said wildly. "You come from a _family_. You are a Blythe, you have a name to carry, a history to confer on someone. I have _nothing_. I have my own accomplishments, and that is all. Roy knows that I was adopted by Matthew and Marilla when I was eleven. That was all he needed to hear. He never asked anything else. The eleven years of shame and misery, that is mine alone to carry. _No one_ can understand that. It only counts against me, it counted against me even here in Avonlea, if you remember. Don't you understand that it still does, anywhere I go?"

His eyes were blazing. "Is this _him_?" he said, angrier than she had ever seen him. "Is this how he makes you see yourself? To make you think that because your childhood was stolen from you, that you are worth _less_ than he is? You _never_ used to doubt yourself, you never used to think it mattered. Anne, if this is what he makes you think, he's not worth you." he said savagely.

"Gil, I don't tell _anyone_ about that side of my life!" she said defeated, and then he turned to her, his voice low and intense.

"You told _me_."

"Because I trusted you." she whispered.

He looked into her distressed eyes for a long moment and then turned away, his heart breaking. "Anne, you deserve _better_ than that. Don't you get it? Don't you see that you make people come alive just by being yourself? Look how you brought Matthew and Marilla to life. Everywhere you go you bring out the best in people- _you_ are the gift. If he doesn't understand that, then he doesn't really love you." he said bluntly. "And I don't think you love him either."

Anne let out a choked cry.

"And maybe it's not for me to say." he stated. "But I loved you for half my life, so I want to know that you will be happy." He stood up again and began to pace across the floor. "If you really loved each other, I should have been able to feel it." he said suddenly, his voice passionate. "It should be tangible, palpable, and make everyone in the room uncomfortable- but it's _not_. Oh, I believed it at first, I really thought it was there and it nearly killed me. But I don't buy it now. You know who _did_ have that? You and me." Anne looked up at him, speechless.

" _Everyone_ talking about us, walking on tiptoes and giving us a wide berth because it made them so uncomfortable. You _know_ that it happened. And I think that's what scared you more than anything." he said directly.

She shrank into herself, her hands on aching temples. "Gilbert, you shouldn't be saying this." she begged him.

"Well, this is the only chance I'll have." he said simply. "Someone needs to tell you the truth. And if you remember correctly, that's one of the things I always did for you." He walked to the window and looked out into the blackness. "You deserve better than this, Anne."

Anne let out a cry of frustration. "Gilbert, how do you know all love is meant to look the same? How do you know that there is only one way that works, and that all the rest _don't_?"

He turned to her then. "Anne, if you could choose between the friendship we had, and what you have now with _him_ , what would you choose?" His eyes looked into hers unflinchingly, and he saw the answer on her face before she lifted her face and spoke shakily.

"You know what I would choose. But _you_ took that choice away from me."

"And doesn't that _tell_ you something about the way you view him?" he demanded.

"Gilbert, we were _best friends_." she imploringly. "Of course you saw those things in me, you knew everything about me. This- this isn't the same."

"No." he said, with a strange gleam in his eye. "I don't buy it. He should not only know everything about you, he should _love_ everything about you. Even the bits that hurt him. He should be willing to give his life to love you all his days, or it's not enough." He let out a long breath, and there was silence in the classroom for a time. Eventually he came back to the rug to sit down, this time choosing his words with great care. "Anne, I won't presume to speak for you. I don't have that right. But you have to know that I- I loved you with everything in me. I would have given anything to keep you safe. And I want to know that he really cares for you that much- that you will be happy with him."

Anne looked back at him, unable to speak a word. His sincerity she couldn't deny- and his words she couldn't argue. He looked into her eyes for a moment, seeming to understand the words she would not say. He leaned over to brush the hair from her forehead, and for a moment her eyes closed at his gentle touch. The moment that seemed charged with a curious intensity- with something like regret, and with words neither of them could say.

"I'm going to miss you, Carrots." Gilbert said softly.

No more was said that night. When they had been silent for some time, Anne curled up on the rug, her head pillowed in the satchel she had carried. Gilbert covered her with the blanket and lay down next to the fireplace, a long deep sigh escaping him. Sleep finally overtook them both, and the gentle sound of rain lulled them into unconsciousness.

* * *

Anne was the first to awaken just before sunrise. She tiptoed to the window and looked out into a rain-washed landscape, where there were no more clouds in the gradually lightening sky. She walked around the room softly picking up their belongings and eventually heard Gilbert stirring in front of the now cold fire. She couldn't help but smile at the groan that left him as he stood up slowly.

"I think I've reached the point where I'm too old to sleep on the floor." he said, in a raspy voice that made Anne's face heat, for no reason she could fathom. She shook her head confusedly. What on earth was the _matter_ with her?

He looked through misted up windows as she had, commenting that the paths should be clear now. Together they straightened the schoolroom to its previous condition, erasing the traces their presence had left. When they were done both of them stood on the threshold with bags in hand; Anne took one last look at the room, and then locked it behind her.

Exhaustion was on both of their faces, as they silently walked through the aftermath of the storm. Great branches had been torn from nearby trees, and the path was muddy and covered with debris. Wordlessly Gilbert extended his hand to help her through the bogged sections of the forest, and he held onto it until they reached the crossroads halfway between Green Gables and the Blythe farm.

Many times they had stopped here to talk, to say goodbye without the scrutiny of either household. Many times they had picnicked under the birch trees that lined the small intersection. As the sun continued to rise over the horizon, they looked at the destruction of all but one of the smallest trees. It stood amongst the torn branches, and Anne ran her hand over the little tree, its white bark marked by violent blows from the bigger trees.

Eventually, Gilbert turned towards Anne.

"Well, we didn't kill each other." he said.

"No." she whispered. Her eyes were on his face, watching him focus on his mud-splattered shoes with apparent interest. There was so much she wanted to say to him- and all of it was impossible. She watched him clear his throat again.

"I'm glad I got a chance to tell you before I went today. About Oxford." he said slowly.

Anne nodded, finding it difficult to speak. "Can you- would you let me know that you arrived there safely?" she said, with lips that were suddenly dry.

He nodded. The silence seemed to thicken around them, and Anne could already feel the anguish of another goodbye. Suddenly she understood why Gilbert had not wanted another day- she realised with painful clarity that she couldn't go through this again either. His eyes were dry, but on his face she could read his grief. She tried to hold back her tears, and impulsively she reached to hug him. Gilbert's arms came around her tightly, and the hot tears that fell from her cheeks soaked into his collar. When it didn't feel as if either one of them would let go, Anne made herself move back from him slightly.

"I'll miss you, Anne." he whispered brokenly; and as another tear fell from her closed eyelids, she took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his gently, longingly. Then she pulled herself from his arms and ran along the pathways that they would share no more.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Valley Road, as its name suggested was nestled at the foot of a line of hills. Anne found a great deal to delight in in her temporary surroundings; in the shadowy little home Janet kept and the easy companionship she found with her there, and the beauty of the eastern side of Prince Edward Island. She found woods to lose herself in, orchards coming into fruit and a landscape carved with intricate little creeks and dimpled hollows that asked to be visited.

On a calm Saturday in mid- August, Anne took herself to one of the little hollows she had found. Less than a mile from Wayside, she walked through the spruce trees to the little sun warmed pool she had found by accident- comforting large trees hid it from the road, and their roots forming a cradle that gave her a view of the little valley below. It reminded her of home, and she took herself there when the now familiar ache grew strong.

Her students were from farming families, pleasant faced and hard working. She sighed, knowing soon she would be exchanging the role of teacher for the more familiar one of student, returning to Redmond in just a fortnight. One more week teaching, one more week at Green Gables before her final year of college began. It was this thought that had driven her to the hollow.

Anne had been a spectator of life in Valley Road, her own was a tangle of loose ends that could not be resolved so easily. She had watched the culmination of the love story of Janet and John Douglas, the end of the manipulation that had kept them apart for so long. Her students she would hand back to Esther, who was returning to the little town the following week. The little class had grown used to Anne's more energetic way of teaching, and she thought with a smile of prim little Esther encouraging the boys and girls to climb trees for nature specimens.

She pulled her small notebook and a pen from her bag, and opened to the first page- a page that bore the words _Dear Gilbert,_ scratched out several times. As it had before, the pen dropped from her hands, and she held the book to her chest with tears threatening again. Had he made it to England safely? Would his letter be waiting for her at Green Gables when she arrived? Would he even bother to write?

She lay back on the warm grass, letting the tears begin to fall again. It was better to do it here. Better to cry now when there was no Mrs Lynde to pester her, to ask why her eyes were red enough rival her hair for colour, or to ask Marilla if Anne normally suffered badly from ' _delicate womanly issues'_.

A sudden wave of panic washed over her. It had been two months, and her emotions were still so completely out of control- something even a dubious Janet had commented on. Tears at a breeze from the hills, the last of the apple blossoms falling from the trees, or a starless night. Or an absent letter. What would happen when she was at home? Or worse, back at Redmond? What on earth was wrong with her these days?

Frustrated, she did what she had done so many times before. She pushed the notebook back in her bag, and lay under the waving trees. She closed her eyes, letting the warm breeze soothe her, as she breathing deeply.

One day at a time. Emotions would come, and emotions would go. She would simply have to take things one day at a time.

* * *

Her welcome back at Green Gables was warm and effusive. Marilla held her tightly without words, and Davy and Dora capered around her like excited young foals. Mrs Lynde kindly commented on the dark circles under Anne's eyes, saying that people who studied too much tended to age faster anyway.

The familiar places soothed her in part, and she spent time scouring the hillsides for the last of the summer flowers. She took the twins on picnics, her restlessness finding a vent in vigorous outdoor pursuits, and enjoying long walks by herself after supper. Marilla noted these things with a concerned eye, and one day as they folded sheets from the clothes line, she addressed them.

"Anne, what is troubling you?" she asked plainly. "I can see that something is; I've never known you to be so withdrawn. Are you concerned about going away next week? Did something happen while you were away?"

Anne looked at her, not knowing how to respond immediately.

"It's- it's been a big summer." She said slowly.

"That was my concern with you teaching for the last two months." Marilla said, putting clothes pins in the small bag hanging on the line. "Was it really necessary to wear yourself out before your final year?"

Anne gave a semblance of a smile. "Teaching didn't wear me out. And I'm sure the final year will be alright." She faltered at this, and in frustration took a deep breath, as she felt the familiar water building behind her eyes again. She blinked rapidly, and turned to the last of the pillowcases on the line. "It will be fine." she whispered.

Marilla stepped in front of her, and took the pillowcase from her hands. She watched the tears begin to flow, and pulled the girl into her arms. Anne clung to her, trying to restrain the sobs from overtaking her. Marilla, never one to use words when they would do little good, simply held her. After a minute Anne spoke brokenly.

"He's not coming back." Marilla froze, not knowing who she was referring to. Anne stepped back, wiping her eyes on an already damp handkerchief. "Gilbert's not going back to Redmond."

Marilla released her, her eyes sad. "Is he coming back here?"

"No." She said in a tight voice. "I won't see him again." She turned from her to pick up the basket, and Marilla stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Is there anything you can do about that?" she asked quietly.

Anne shut her eyes tightly, taking a shuddering breath. "I think I have done everything I can." she whispered, trying to smile. "Now I just have to live with it."

"Can you?"

The question was gentle, but it put a finger on the thought that had tormented her all summer. She turned towards the house, but Marilla still heard her soft words.

"I don't know."

* * *

On her last day at home, Anne walked towards the Wright farmstead. She held a basket of Marilla's plum tarts, and some wildflowers from Orchard Slope. Diana had stopped in briefly to ask her blushingly to come to her house for tea the following day, her first visiting guest to her new home. Anne sighed, happy to put her mournful thoughts behind her. Talking with Marilla had released a little of the pain she felt, and as she turned in the gate to Diana's home she realised it had been at least two days since she had cried- that _was_ a record.

Diana met her at the door, her cheeks pink, bustling around her kitchen with proud efficiency.

"Dearest, everything is wonderful." Anne said, smiling at the lovely setting. Diana showed her around the house, her needlework proudly on display through the rooms. Anne admired the intricate doilies, the crocheted hand towels and crisp white pillowcases adorning the beds. As Diana laid the table talking of their plans for the homestead, Anne saw the future that Diana had dreamed of, in a now realised form. She spoke of her husband with a pretty bridal rose on her cheeks, and Anne felt a pang in her heart that she forced herself to swallow quickly.

When the talk had simmered down, Anne looked at her friend as she poured the tea, and a sudden smile came to her face.

"Anne, how is your tea?" the young hostess asked, and Anne grinned, her eyes twinkling.

"I was going to ask _you_ that."

Diana's eyes flew to her friends, and the two of the burst into a girlish peal of laughter. Diana covered her cheeks, and was silent for a few seconds. She picked up her rose rimmed cup, and then rested her elbows on the tea table.

"Do you really want to know?" Diana asked, her cheeks flaming.

Anne looked across at her friend, and then accidentally added a completely unnecessary sugar to her tea. As she stirred, she couldn't repress a smile, her own cheeks pink.

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

Diana gave a long sigh that made the two of them laugh giddily again.

"It's not what I thought." Diana said, in a rush. "But it's- well, _different_. It's nothing like what is written in novels, but then it's not like what the older ladies talk about either." She said, with a roll of her eyes. "I don't quite know how to explain it, but- Anne, when you kiss someone, you start to want more- and then more- and then suddenly it runs away and it becomes something else entirely." she said, with a sigh. "And I suppose I can see why people could see it as _not_ romantic: it's kind of raw and private and a bit confronting, but you were _right_ \- it's how we choose to look at it that matters." Anne was captivated by her description, her spoon destroying the tart on her plate unknowingly.

"I think all I can really say is that when it is the one you love- the one you know and trust above _anyone_ else, it's the most beautiful and fulfilling thing in the world." she finished, her face rosy in her happiness.

Anne's fingers were trembling, and she laid down her spoon so that it wouldn't clatter so on the plate.

"I'm so happy for you, Di." she said softly. Diana observed the change in her, and hoped she hadn't given too much away for her friend.

"And you, Anne?" she asked carefully. "Are you thinking of your future wedding with Roy?"

Anne looked at her, her face pale, but she answered honestly.

"I'm not going to marry Roy."

Diana was taken aback and floundered for a moment, before reaching for her hand and asking the only question that she saw as relevant right then.

"Anne, are you alright?"

Anne smiled faintly. "I will be." She let out a breath unsteadily. "He's not the one for me." She looked around the tidy kitchen, trying to find the words. "Until I meet someone- someone I love as much as you love Fred- I won't be getting married." she whispered, trying to smile. "I realised that after your wedding."

Diana stood from the table to come and embrace Anne tightly, unspoken compassion and love enfolding her beloved friend. Anne sighed eventually pulled away with a small smile.

"But small matters aside. Come now Diana, this visit isn't to talk about me." she said, with an apparent return of her cheerfulness. "I want to hear all about the dramas that we _didn't_ see at your wedding! I'm sure your mother had enough tales to fill a book." Diana laughed and went on to talk about Fred's great uncle who had gotten into the elderberry wine, and Minnie May kissing the ring bearer _publicly_ \- much to her mother's disgust.

Later, when Diana farewelled her friend, she walked her to the small gate at the front of her home.

"I am going to miss you, Anne." she said with a little sigh, and then smiled. "But I have a feeling you are going to have a wonderful year. You're traveling back there with Charlie and Moody?"

Anne laughed. "Yes, our trips will coincide on the boat train; Mrs MacPherson wanted me to make sure Moody wore his warmest coat, and thought I could keep an eye on his health at college. She spoke to me about it at length on Sunday." she said dryly. "I'm not sure why."

Diana giggled. "Mark my words, Miss Shirley, whoever the man is who is destined to win your heart has a mother- and believe me, they _never_ stop coddling them. Fred's mother has already checked that he is wearing his winter pyjamas now, saying that _'_ autumn weather could turn any day now'. I didn't have the nerve to tell her what he _actually_ wears to bed." she said with an unladylike snort.

Anne raised her eyebrows at her friend, who then went red, albeit looking decidedly smug.

"Diana Barry, I did not need to know that!" Anne protested, and the two of them burst out laughing again.

"I didn't say anything, Miss Shirley." Di said innocently. "Oh, write to me as soon as you can, Anne, I love to get your letters." Diana said, hugging her friend once more. "And I'll write back straight away. Tell me everything…." she said warmly, as Anne kissed her cheek; and she began the walk back home to Green Gables for the last time that summer.

* * *

The first day of the college year began four days later, and Anne sat in the rows of chairs reserved for the senior year of Redmond. Phil was beside her, and Stella and Priscilla had taken their seats along the row. Roy was no doubt somewhere on the other side of the hall, preserving a wounded silence and keeping well away from her. Anne took a deep breath. Her friends were with her, their final year was beginning. There were honours to be fought over, decisions that would be made for her future. Memories that needed to be made. For the first time since the beginning of summer, Anne could see the path ahead of her. No, it didn't look like she had planned, but then, the future rarely did.

And then suddenly, her world shifted.

The Chancellor of the University introduced the president of the Senior class, and of the student body. Anne looked at the young man who ascended the platform and gave a short address to the students, the familiar voice firm and steady. There was a sudden ringing in her ears, and she got up blindly from her seat. She pushed past Phil, fumbling her way to the nearby exit. While only a handful of people saw her leave, one of them was the gentleman on the stage. When he was dismissed, he quickly went through the doors at the side, and ran to the front of the old Redmond Amphitheatre.

He found her on the steps, and stopped cold- Anne's face was in her hands, and her shoulders were shaking.

"Anne." he said, breathless in his rush. Gilbert knelt down in front of her nervously, not knowing if he was about to be hit by her anger once more. When she didn't respond, he gently pulled her hands from her face, taking them in his own. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks wet with tears. He didn't know when she had looked more adorable. Gilbert pulled the handkerchief from his pocket to hand to her.

"You didn't go." she said, her voice shaking uncontrollably.

"I couldn't do it." he said slowly. "I think I have some unfinished business here at Redmond." His eyes were warm, and Anne choked back another sob. He gripped her hand tightly, and she squeezed his fingers back, her eyes closing against the onset of more tears.

"Anne, is there any room for an old school friend in your life?" he asked, his voice light. "I do come highly recommended."

"No." she choked, with a little laugh. "But there _is_ a vacancy for my very best friend. Could you settle for that?"

He laughed, and pulled her up from the steps to give her a tight hug. As soon as he released her, he grinned.

"You know Carrots; I think this might just shape up to be a very good year."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Gilbert Blythe strode into the advanced mathematics honours class on Friday, and pulled up short at the sight of the brown-haired girl with the crooked smile, sitting in the back row of seats. He grinned, and placed his books next to her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Phil Gordon said seriously. "I've been trying to decide where to sit for twenty minutes now- I've moved six times already. If you sit here, I'll immediately decide we would be better off down the front."

Gilbert narrowed his eyes at her. "So am I actually able to sit with you?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Then let's pretend _I_ chose this seat, and _you_ decided to sit where I did." He said, sitting down with an air of finality.

Phil laughed, triumphant. "Oh, well done, Gilbert. You outmanoeuvred my indecisiveness!"

He grinned at her. He hadn't been able to make time to see anyone since the first day back, and had been hoping to catch Anne some time that evening.

"So, do the ladies of Patty's Place still entertain gentleman callers on Fridays?" he asked, in a nonchalant tone.

"Of course. Are you actually going to visit us this year?" Phil asked impertinently. "I thought we'd lost you forever."

Gilbert smiled. "Almost." He pulled out a textbook and looked at the cover with careful interest. "So where is Anne right now?"

"Oh, I don't know. Somewhere with the English crowd- and hopefully not moping anymore." He looked at her sharply. "Honestly, I don't know what is _wrong_ with that girl this semester." Phil muttered. Gilbert waited impatiently for her to continue, however Phil seemed to have lost her train of thought.

"What's wrong with Anne?" he asked lightly.

"She's just being odd." Phil said, rolling her eyes. "More so than normal, I mean. She's out walking every night after supper, and she _won't_ have anyone with her, or explain what she's doing out so late. Stella says she just seems to pace her room until the early hours of the morning."

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up, and he floundered a little. "Well- she might be working on a story." Gilbert suggested. "She sometimes does that."

Phil looked at him as if he was crazy. "I doubt it, Gilbert. And the _crying_! Lord Almighty, I've never known her to be such a wet blanket." she said disgustedly, shaking her head. "Crying over parting from Rusty next year, over the way a book ended, over burning the biscuits for supper twice in a row. Aunt Jimsie won't let her in the kitchen now."

Gilbert's hand closed around his pen, his heart thumping anxiously. Was there really something wrong? Had something happened at Green Gables? Or was it something personal?

Was it _him_?

He knew he had startled her on the first day, but she hadn't seemed angry with him. No, she had seemed very happy to see him. He _knew_ she was happy to see him.

And that's why he had stayed. That was why he had returned to Kingsport and had taken the second scholarship that had been offered to him- enabling a year of study that would have stretched him financially, even with the work he had done for the paper. That night in the schoolhouse had shown him how much she really cared, how important he was to her. He couldn't lose that. And when she had given him that kiss- the kiss she gave him when she thought she would never see him again- he knew at that moment that he couldn't leave. Maybe that made him some kind of colossal idiot, but Roy or no Roy, he needed to spend this last year at Redmond with her.

Although personally he was hoping for _no_ Roy.

And what on earth was happening with her now?

The professor entered the classroom, and the seats towards the front were starting to fill up. Gilbert leaned in close to Phil to continue the conversation, his textbook slipping from his hands onto the floor, unnoticed.

"Walk me through it. What's she doing?"

Phil looked at him, amused. "Taking up psychology, are we?"

"No, but I've known her since she was eleven. I might be able to figure it out." Gilbert said logically. "When does she go out walking?

"She leaves as soon as supper is done, that's _if_ she decides she's hungry. It's still pretty light in the park at that time, so it isn't so bad, but often she will come home at nine and skulk in the orchard for a while." Phil said with a sigh. "I've offered to go with her and so did Priss, but she said she needed to be alone. When I suggested we go to the concert at the rotunda instead last night, she said she would prefer to spend time with the pine trees, and was gone before I could stop her." Phil groaned. "This morning she seemed cheerful enough, and we were all walking on eggshells to _keep_ her that way- until she discovered a small rip in one of her skirts, and then on came the waterworks again. Gilbert, we're stumped."

Gilbert was completely at sea. "I- I don't know what to tell you. It's really not like her."

"No, and it's exhausting." Phil said in a blunt tone. "If she would only _talk_ to us that would be one thing."

"But she won't," he finished absently, and then he chuckled.

"What are you laughing about?" Phil asked, bridling. "Now I know she's overwrought, but that's no reason for you to poke fun at her."

"I promise I'm not;" he said honestly. "but it's classic Anne. She needs trees because that's where she goes to sort herself out."

Phil's face was bewildered. "How on earth would that help anyone?"

Gilbert shrugged. "I don't know. Obviously it's not helping this time."

Phil looked at him appraisingly. "So what about the excessive crying then?"

He could only shake his head. "I'm not sure about that." he said slowly. "Anne's emotional, but it should be the full range of emotions, not just tears." He sat back and let out a deep breath. "It's like she's hiding _from_ something. I've seen her do that."

"I suppose you could say that." Phil stated. "Maybe the break up with Roy affected her more than she is admitting."

"Wait, _WHAT_?" he exclaimed loudly, causing Phil to jump, and a class of students and the professor to turn and face him indignantly.

"Is there an issue, Mr Blythe?" Professor Wheeler said, in a biting tone, swishing his long, black robes as he turned.

"Sir- I- no. No problem." he stuttered, and realising he had practically leapt from his seat, sat down next to Phil again. When the teacher recommenced his lecture, Gilbert picked up his text from the floor and leaned in to talk to her again behind the opened book.

"Are you telling me she's _not_ with that pompous windbag anymore?" he whispered, his voice incredulous.

"Yes, but that was over two months ago, Gilbert." Phil said impatiently.

"Two months?!" he said, falling back on his seat in shock. "What on earth happened?" he demanded.

Phil turned to look at him, a pitying look on her face. "Gilbert, do try to pay attention. _She. Won't. Talk_. We don't know anything. If she _could_ tell us that would help, but as you yourself said…. "

"She won't," he finished, letting out a breath he seemed to have been holding. "Alright. I'll have to see what I can do." Unable to stop himself, a big smile was forming on his suddenly much lighter face.

Phil looked at him shrewdly. "Gilbert, you have barely been around for more than a year. I won't say we didn't miss you, we did. And _she_ did more than anyone. She hasn't been the same since then, and it looks like she's a pretty big mess now. Now if your presence is going to make it worse, you need to stay away."

Gilbert stopped smiling when he looked into her ferocious brown eyes, and he met them calmly. "Phil, I know. If I thought I would hurt her more I would stay away. But I _will_ be there tonight. Just- don't let her go till I get there."

Phil shook her head, watching him closely. "Goodness, it's like dealing with changelings with you two. What do you islanders _do_ in your holidays?" she asked suspiciously.

Gilbert gave her an uncomfortable smile. "That might be a story for another time."

* * *

Phil walked home that afternoon, her mind not at all on the assignments she had been given that day by the crusty old professor who grumbled about disrupted classrooms and inattentive students. She was puzzling through the change she had seen in Gilbert that day. He seemed more cheerful that he had been in a long time. She was glad to see him around again- and his presence _would_ make the class much more fun as a whole; however Anne's dramas had taken centre stage that lesson. Phil sighed. She would much rather be spending time getting ready for that evening- Jo had said he _might_ be able to visit….

She entered Patty's Place with some trepidation, to see Anne's shoes sticking up from the end of her favourite chair. She couldn't judge her mental state from the condition of the neatly buttoned boots, so she peered over the top to their owner.

"And how are we this afternoon, Miss Shirley?" Phil said, with an attempt at sprightliness. There was a pause, and then an unusually pragmatic voice came from the depths of the chair.

"Well, I haven't cried in six hours."

Phil began to laugh. "Why, Anne; you _know_ you're doing this?"

"Well, of _course_ I know." Anne said crossly. "It's my eyes that are suffering for it."

Phil laughed again and pulled her off the chair. "Come on honey, I'm taking you out for some tea and sympathy."

* * *

Two hours later, Anne and Phil walked home in the late afternoon sun. Anne's colour was better, but she still hadn't spilled the beans, much to Phil's frustration.

"Is there _nothing_ you can tell me?" Phil wheedled. "You know you can tell me anything, sweetie."

"No. There's nothing _to_ tell." Anne said doggedly.

"Honey. You know I love you;" Phil stated. "But you've been dripping like a faucet for a week now, and we're all starting to take it personally."

"Well, it's not about _anything_." Anne said uncertainly. "If you must know, whatever this _is_ has been going on since the middle of summer, and I don't _know_ what is causing it. I just- seem a little more emotional these days."

"You mean a LOT more emotional." Phil muttered, and Anne threw her a cross look.

"I don't particularly like it myself, if you must know. I would much prefer to feel in control of myself." she said shortly.

Phil thought about Gilbert's words, and looked at her sideways.

"Is this about Roy?" Phil asked carefully.

Anne's eyes shut briefly. " _Phil_ -"

"Look, I know you said you don't wish to discuss it, but it's high time you talked about whatever is bothering you with someone." Anne looked up in surprise to see Phil's brown eyes looking at her frankly. "Anne, you know this is _not_ my area of expertise, I won't claim to know anything about hearts. _You'd_ do better here- but right now you're simply not able to help yourself. Let someone else."

Anne was stubbornly silent for a time. Phil had decided to give up and let Gilbert try his chances that night, when Anne suddenly spoke.

"It's not about Roy." she said deliberately. "But I don't quite know what the matter _is_."

"You're _not_ sorry that you broke it off with him?" Phil asked carefully, trying to feel her way around the issue.

"No."

"And was- was there a reason?"

Anne took a deep breath, not wanting to have this discussion. "Phil, I need time to figure all of this out. Can you please, _please_ just give me a little while?"

Phil looked at her and sighed, her shoulders dropping in defeat. "Alright. But Anne- I'm concerned about you. We all are."

Anne smiled. "I'll sort myself out. Just give me some time."

Phil tucked her arm through Anne's slim one. "Are you going to be in tonight?" she asked with a lightly teasing smile. "You never know. We might end up having some special visitors."

Phil was pleased to see Anne give a small laugh. "Does this mean the Jo we have been hearing about constantly might be coming to call?" she teased, and Phil smiled brilliantly.

"He did say he would try; he has to make a call to some invalid member of his congregation first." She frowned. "I do hope he doesn't spend _too_ long consoling the poor old dear, I'm quite anxious to show him off to you all."

* * *

That night Phil was in her element presiding over the small party that had gathered at Patty's Place. Priscilla had some guests from the Classics department, and Stella a friend from home. Aunt Jimsie had served tea to the small group, and Phil could now keep an eye on an exasperating Anne, whose eyes would keep wandering longingly to the little door that led to the pine grove. Phil had already distracted her a few times, and was running out of imaginary errands to keep her in the house. Where on earth was Gilbert? Clearly he had _no_ idea how hard it was to keep that girl inside when she didn't want to be.

At that moment, a knock came at the door and Phil flew to answer it. Thankfully Gilbert was already waiting there, and his eyebrows flew up at the level of noise of the house.

"What kind of gathering is this?" he asked, puzzled.

"Never mind that, _where were you_?" Phil hissed under her breath. "That wretched girl won't sit still for five minutes altogether, and by now she has probably-"

Suddenly she broke off, seeing someone at last enter the little gate. "Oh- _Jo!"_ she cried ecstatically, abandoning and pushing past a bemused Gilbert.

He waited respectfully for a moment, before hesitantly stepping through the front door alone; thankfully everyone else was too busy to pay him much attention. Memories of older times suddenly assailed him- studying with Anne at the bow-legged table, watching her across the room when unwelcome visitors maddeningly filled every chair. Still later, when he would force himself to come just to be able to see her face once more. Always, _always_ just once more.

He took a deep breath. Those memories were the past, this was _now_. And in the now he needed to find her. He stepped over the purring collection of cats in the hallway, and looked around the room. It was cosy and warm, but there was still no Anne. Surely she hadn't left since Phil had last seen her- and then Gilbert sighed in relief. She was there, sitting on the little window seat on the first landing, out of the way and looking out the window wistfully.

He wasn't _really_ supposed to do this... Gilbert surreptitiously looked behind him, and saw that all of the inhabitants of Patty's place were safely occupied. He tiptoed up the small staircase, and grinned when her big grey eyes came up to meet his in shock. He sat down beside her, and studied her beautiful face. She still looked a trifle thin, but there was a spark in her eye that was good to see.

"Hello." he whispered.

"Hello yourself." she said with suddenly flushed cheeks.

Gilbert looked at her, his eyes mischievous. "Do you want to get out of here?" he asked abruptly.

"Oh, _goodness_ yes. I'll get my coat." Anne muttered, and the two of them were down the stairs and out the side door before anyone else could acknowledge their presence.

Deep in the old park across the road, Anne drew a satisfyingly deep breath. She could _breathe_ out here. The sun was now setting, and a cool breeze blew off the harbour. Oh, it was good to be outside again! She hadn't spoken as they made their escape, and she now looked across at Gilbert, striding along beside her with a contented look. She shook her head slightly, still trying to make sense of his inexplicable presence.

"So Phil said you'd been out walking a lot," Gilbert said suddenly, giving her his old twisted smile.

"Oh- well, I needed to get out," Anne replied lamely and sighed. "Gil, can I ask you something?"

He looked across at her, with a teasing look. "As long as we don't end up yelling at each other or crying again. We don't need to repeat that."

Anne groaned. "You _had_ to bring it up. I know, it was an awful night."

Gilbert kept his eyes carefully forward. "Actually, it was probably a good thing. We wouldn't be here otherwise."

Anne stopped short as she digested his words, and she looked at him startled. "No. I suppose we wouldn't."

Gilbert reached down to take her hand, to get her walking again by his side. She felt her cheeks flush, but didn't try to pull her hand out of his.

"I meant to ask, did you ever tell anyone where we were that night?" he said quietly.

Anne gave a short laugh. "I told Marilla where I had been. She was the only one awake when I got home, and was so thankful I was safe she didn't ask anything else. She had thought I would take refuge at the Barry's. It was a bit of a shock when I came in the house at six in the morning looking bedraggled and muddy."

"So she thought you were alone there?"

Anne nodded. "I wasn't really able to talk about it at that point." she said sheepishly. Gilbert looked across at her with a sigh.

"I only told my dad. He sent me upstairs to get washed and to go to bed, and then he dealt with my mother for me."

Anne's cheeks were a bright pink by this point. "Oh. Did he know I was there?"

Gilbert nodded. "Yes. He- just listened to me a bit. He didn't tell my mother anything though." he said dryly. He gave her hand a squeeze as he turned them down towards the water. "I need to ask, were you alright afterwards, Anne?" he asked hesitantly. "I said some very harsh things to you, and I can't tell you how sorry I am. I was completely out of control, and I deeply regret it. Can you ever forgive me?"

Anne sighed. "You know I have, Gilbert. And you also know it wasn't one sided. I said dreadful things too. And I was wrong about so much that I _did_ say."

He led her to a small bench, and sat her down beside him. Her hand remained tucked in his, and he looked over at her, his face regretful. "So are you alright?"

Anne flinched slightly at the question, and looked out across the water. In the dull moonlight the ripples on the water glowed soothingly, the small waves riding gently onto the shore and receding. She sighed and looked back at him.

"No." she said in stark honesty. "But not because of that night- not because of you. I can't really explain why."

Gilbert's face was troubled. "Anne, I'm so sorry if I caused-"

She stopped him with her free hand on his arm. "Gilbert, it's not you. It's just- _me_." She said dejectedly, and then gave a wry chuckle. "I'm a mess. I think I have been for a long time. It's nothing you did."

Gilbert gave a short laugh. "Look, I'm really not in much better shape, Anne. I think you saw that clearly enough at the schoolhouse." He sighed, and studied her face in the pale moonlight. "But maybe- Anne, do you suppose two friends who are _both_ a bit of a mess could somehow help each other?" he asked.

She smiled at him, and for the first time in a long time she rested her cheek on his shoulder. Gilbert's throat closed over at her touch, and he let out a long deep breath. His darling, darling girl.

There was so much to talk about- so many misunderstandings to unravel. But for now it was enough to be sitting there together with her hand in his. He knew he could wait; he knew he had time. She was looking to find herself again- and somehow he knew that at the end of her search, she would find _him_.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Overlooking the moonlit ocean, Gilbert and Anne sat on the old seat for some time in silence. Both of them wondering how they arrived at this place, both of them a little unsure how to proceed.

"You said you wanted to ask me something." Gilbert said, nudging her slightly.

"I did?" Anne asked, more than a little distracted by the warmth of his fingers on hers. "Oh- yes. I did actually." She looked uncomfortable, suddenly not sure she wanted an answer to this particular question. "Gilbert, why didn't you tell me you weren't going to Oxford?"

He was silent for a minute. "I guess I didn't know how to." He said, slowly.

To his surprise, Anne chuckled. " _Really_ Gilbert?" She then cleared her throat theatrically. "' _Dear Anne. Am staying at Redmond. The weather continues fine. Sincerely, Gilbert Blythe.'_ Would that have been so hard?"

He shook his head, a slight grin on his face. "More like ' _Dear Anne, I'm staying because I miss you. Hope it's not awkward. Gilbert.'"_ he said with a mock frown.

She laughed, finding her cheeks suddenly warm again. "Well, I missed you too."

"I _did_ consider the possibility that you would break something over my head again."

Anne's eyebrow lifted at this. "Why?"

"Well, for putting you through that in the first place. And as it turned out, unnecessarily."

Anne looked out at the waters thoughtfully. "I think I was too glad to see you to be upset." she admitted, and then smiled. "Maybe when I'm used to you again I'll get cross."

Gilbert groaned. "Not yet. We've had enough fighting to last us a while.'

"Agreed."

He looked at her profile, thinking of Phil's conversation only that morning. He wasn't willing to approach the Roy conversation yet; sensing she may not be ready to talk. He frowned slightly. Had Roy somehow hurt her? Caught up in his own thoughts, he suddenly became aware that she was talking to him.

"How was your summer?" Anne asked him.

He looked at her, not immediately wanting to admit at that moment how difficult it had been. His parents had written him often, his mother wanting answers to Gilbert's sudden change of mind. He had second-guessed himself more than once, calling himself the king of fools for even considering staying. In the end, the Dean had called him into his office, outlining an alternative campaign to finish his degree out well, and telling him bluntly that his career at Redmond had been excellent.

 _"You have the kind of mind that can go far, Blythe. And I'm not saying that Oxford wouldn't do for you as well. But better to finish on top of the pile, with important connections already in place, rather than have to start all over again in your final year. Redmond can do that for you."_

Gilbert had left the office, promising an answer the next day. He had walked to his boarding house in one of the dingier streets of Kingsport and sat on the worn red brick steps for a long time. The breeze that blew past him carried the heat of the grimy streets, and he thought longingly of an island summer.

 _To stay or to go._

To go meant exile from the home he loved- trips back to the island would be non-existent. To go meant to let go of seeing his parents. To leave behind all that he had loved.

To go meant not seeing her again.

Gilbert rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head. The images flashed through his mind- her walking towards him at the wedding, her hand on his shoulder as they danced. Her furious face turning to him in the darkened classroom and seeing her cry like a broken child. He closed his eyes against the pain.

A rumble of thunder in the distance sounded; he lifted his eyes above the pavements, above the closely packed tenement buildings and stunted trees. There were clouds in the distance, and the humidity of the late afternoon seemed to press in all around him. He watched small unkempt children run past his step to their homes, seemingly chased by the sudden wind. As he turned his face towards the gust, a brief coolness whispered around him. It carried the scent of faraway pines, of home, of bittersweet longing. He caught his breath.

 _Anne._

The last memory hit him with the force of a tidal wave. Her breath on his face, the way her mouth had pressed against his so tenderly, the tears falling down her cheeks. Gilbert lifted his face suddenly, his jaw set. He had let her go then; watched her turn down the last bend in the road away from him. He couldn't do it again. He knew that she cared now- he knew she had missed him as he had missed her. If only for the sake of one last year in her life, he would stay.

Anne looked at him in the light of the moon, seeing that he was lost in thought. When he turned to her, he remembered her question.

"Hard," he said at last. He smiled at her then. "I guess I had a lot of decisions to make. I was extremely grateful to have work at the paper, but it's tiring. The printing room is very hot in summer." he said with a grin.

"How did you tell the scholarship people you were declining?" she asked.

Gilbert flushed slightly. "Well, it wasn't so much a matter of _declining_ as of choosing which one to accept." Anne's head came up, and she looked at him in surprise. "I also won the Rainsleigh scholarship as well."

"Gilbert, well done! You must have worked hard for that."

"Thank you. It was the one I was originally going to take," he said awkwardly. "After the wedding when I- decided I couldn't do it anymore- I thought Oxford might be the better option."

Anne almost pulled away from him, some lingering guilt and hurt making itself felt, however Gilbert put his other hand over hers, stopping her movement. He looked at her in regret and spoke softly. "I changed my mind after that night. I didn't realise how much I had hurt you- that you thought I didn't care. And I know we grew apart last year- I know it would have been impossible to keep the friendship we had- but after that I just couldn't leave. I had to see if there was a chance for us to be- _us_ again. Irrespective of any other relationship you had- irrespective of Roy. Your friendship means that much to me."

Anne sat still, her hand shaking inside his. She breathed slowly, unsure of how to respond. It was her. He had come back because of _her_. Her thoughts were scrambled, and she tried to return to a logical train of thought. He was her friend. He was back- they had a year together. Before- what? To have to say goodbye again? To separate pathways a year from now? Or to see him finally fall in love with someone who deserved him? She turned to look at him, some hurt lingering. Then she caught sight of his hazel eyes in the moonlight, and she sighed. They still had right _now_.

Gilbert watched the struggle cross her face, and gripped her hand tightly. If there was a chance, if he was to have any hope of winning her at all, he needed to be able to be honest- even if it hurt him. He unconsciously willed her to tell him about Roy- and was completely flummoxed when she did.

"You were right," she said at last. He raised one eyebrow at her. "About Roy. You were right."

While perfectly aware that he was doing a good job imitating a fish with his mouth hanging open in shock, he watched Anne tuck a loose red curl behind one ear, and begin to talk.

"He seemed like the right person for me. Poetic, romantic. But he _wasn't_. Roy has his own world, and it isn't the same one I am from." Anne said. "I think I was starting to realise that even before the wedding. I didn't- didn't- love him. And then when _you_ said what you did-"

"I made it worse," he said with a grimace.

Anne's smile was ironic. "No, you merely stopped me from ignoring what I felt. Apparently, _denial_ is something I am quite good at. Did you know that Gilbert?" she said wryly. She sighed and slumped against the bench. "Have you ever felt like you don't know yourself?" she asked, in a discouraged tone. "All this summer I seem to have been finding things out about myself that _I didn't know_. And things that any other reasonable human being _should_ know about themselves. But no, for me it seems to hit _all at once-_ and I had eight long weeks at Valley Road to think about the implications of that- all amongst people who didn't know me. I _couldn't_ talk to anyone there about it, and I couldn't seem to write it to anyone in a letter, however hard I tried."

Gilbert watched as the self-recriminations began to flow from her, and didn't move when she pulled her hand out of his to stand, pacing the small area around them. She gestured in frustration as she talked, finally allowing her thoughts to flood out unchecked.

"Gilbert, _I don't know who I am anymore_. Everyone else seems to have some clue. Di and Fred have embarked on a beautiful life together, and they are so sure of who and what they are meant to be. I thought I needed to leave Avonlea- that coming to college would somehow teach me a better way to live- to find my purpose in discovering the world. And now, at the start of our final year, I realise I know less and understand less than I ever have. Isn't this supposed to be the place we find ourselves?" she asked, her voice passionate. "Even the frivolous _Phil_ has _._ I don't know if you knew this, but there is a young man named Jonas whom she met this summer- and she is in love with him. She's not mixed up and mistaken, she knows exactly what she wants in life. I can't even seem to decide what clothing to pick out in the morning right now," she said crossly, making Gilbert chuckle. Anne sighed and sat down on the bench again. She caught the slight smile on his face.

"I know everyone thinks I'm crazy right now," she said wryly. "But I don't seem to know how to pull myself together. I'm not as wise as I once believed myself. I'm feeling completely lost, right at a time when I need to be making major decisions for my life. And I convinced myself that I knew what love looked like, only to find that I was completely wrong. And I hurt someone horribly in the process." She caught her breath in defeat and pain. "And you _know_ how Redmond gossip is- I will be looked at as a jilt and a flirt, even by those who care about me most. I can't even tell Phil why I ended the relationship with Roy- last time something like this happened she was horribly upset with me. I don't think I could take her telling me how foolish I was again." she said, her voice breaking. "I _know_ I was foolish- I know I have been an idiot. And I have already heard the whispers about me at college. Gilbert, people have been talking about me all my life- you know how it hurt me back then, and to have that happen again is _excruciating_."

Gilbert looked at her in astonishment, suddenly understanding. Of _course_ \- she had never been one to keep her thoughts inside, to be reticent. To have kept all of this bottled up would have damaged her even more. He thought back on their night in the schoolhouse- the words he had spoken, how harsh he had been- adding fuel to an already blazing fire. He shut his eyes, realising she had been punishing herself without mercy since then.

She sighed, and the two of them sat in a short silence.

"I wrote to Roy when I- when I got back to Green Gables that morning. I didn't want to leave things until we came back to Redmond, I thought it best to tell him as soon as I could. He was- understandably- very angry. But you were right. I didn't love him. And it would have been a terrible mistake."

Gilbert only nodded, thinking absently that running in circles yelling like he _wanted_ to do might be considered in poor taste. Then, with a look at the girl beside him, he thought guiltily about what Phil had revealed, about the sleepless nights, the anguish he still saw in her face. He sighed, putting his arm around her thin shoulders.

"You've had a tough summer." he said regretfully.

"I think we _both_ have," Anne stated. "Gilbert, this is an awful lot for you to have to listen to. It's not your job to fix me."

Gilbert grinned. "I thought we agreed that we _both_ needed some fixing. Do we need to continue long walks at night time? I'm up for the scandal if you are. We might need warmer coats, though."

Anne smiled. "Maybe we should stay inside and torment the others like we used to," she said with a chuckle. "And take up the living room floor with all of our study materials, and frighten Aunt Jimsie with our arguments again."

Gilbert groaned, and Anne rolled her eyes. " _Fine_ , we'll save the arguments for a few months down the track, when we've recovered," she said drolly. "You know we won't avoid it forever."

"Thank you." He stood to his feet slowly. "It's getting cold; I can feel you starting to shiver. We should get you back home."

Anne stood as well, very aware that he had been keeping her warm for the last half an hour. Her cheeks flushed, not wanting to admit that she missed his hand holding hers. He gave her a small smile and they began the walk back, his hands safely back in his pockets.

She looked at his profile, with a sudden sinking feeling. "Gil?" she asked cautiously. "Are you sure Christine won't mind our friendship? I don't want to cause you any trouble."

He didn't look at her, but there was a smile in his voice when he spoke. "I should probably let you know that Christine is engaged to someone from her hometown," he said deliberately. When he finally looked at her, she had stopped walking, and there was an indignant look on her face that made him laugh. "I told her brother I'd look out for her while she's at Redmond."

"But- but you—you-" she spluttered.

"You _really_ shouldn't believe everything you hear, Miss Shirley."

Anne's grey-green eyes were narrowed, but there was a suspicious twinkle in them.

"Anne, sometimes you don't want to look like the guy that got left out in the cold," he said with a candid look.

" _I'll_ leave you out in the cold-" she grumbled audibly.

Gilbert gave her a roguish grin that suddenly made her heart beat a little queerly. He pulled his hand from his pocket to take hers again and didn't miss the sigh that left her mouth as he did so.

"Come on, Anne. I'll bet Jimsie still has some hot tea on the stove."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Anne walked into the English lecture hall early on Monday morning, and settled herself in a seat by the window. She looked dreamily out at the row of maple trees lining the courtyard. Their branches were already dressed in the blazing reds, oranges and yellows of autumn, and she watched the wind pick up a scarlet leaf from the nearest tree, tossing it carelessly to the ground.

As she laid out her course materials, she thought with satisfaction that life seemed to be getting back to normal once more. Interesting people to observe, the rivalry and hard work of the classroom. A beautiful home filled with friends, with loved ones near and far. Little sketches she had found herself suddenly picking up her pen for- something that had grown very rare of late. Anne had spent a happy hour sitting in the old orchard on Saturday afternoon, weaving stories that had lain dormant for months.

And of course, Gilbert. Anne felt a little trickle of happiness flow through her, warming her like summer sunshine. How had she survived without his friendship in her life? He who could make her laugh, who knew her better than anyone. Who saw all her flaws and accepted her for all of them. And the transformation in him seemed as great as her own- his teasing smile, the jests and outrageous comments that he saved for only her. She had missed his laughter. The sombre, distant stranger she had become used to had gone, replaced by the very much alive Gilbert she remembered of old.

Anne's happy musings were abruptly brought to a halt when Royal Gardner swept into the classroom. Anne felt the chill come over the atmosphere as he walked by her desk, seating himself directly in front of her. She busied herself with her notes, resolving to not be perturbed by his presence. It was his class as well as hers, she would remain calm and composed.

After a moment of quiet, Roy turned to her. His voice was polite, but his manner cold.

"Anne. It's nice to see you."

"Thank you, Roy." She returned quietly. "You too-"

"I wondered if you would do me the courtesy of meeting with me," he coolly interrupted. "I believe we have some loose ends that need to be tied up."

Anne was taken aback for a moment. "If you wish."

"I _do_ wish. Are you free after class today?"

There was a slight pause. "Yes, I believe that will be fine."

He turned back to the front. "I will see you at Darcy's at noon."

The rest of the class entered, and Anne sank down in her chair as the seats filled, wishing bleakly for a friendly face to appear. She had known this would be coming, however, this would not make the afternoon's interview any easier. Maintaining a calm exterior cost her much concentration in the poetry class, and she reflected grimly that at this point a reading of Othello would be more conducive to cheer than the interview she now dreaded.

Two hours later Anne emerged through the courtyard of the Arts department, and almost ran into Phil and Gilbert, who stood talking animatedly near the classroom. Anne was too caught up in her anxiety to notice that the conversation stopped as soon as she appeared and that Gilbert's eyes had lit up at the sight of her.

"Anne, what's the matter?" Phil said, puzzled. When she had parted with her that morning, Anne had seemed far happier that she had been in a long time- something she had only just been saying to Gilbert.

"I have an appointment for tea right now at Darcy's. With Roy."

"Oh- _oh_. That appointment." Phil said, with a grimace.

Gilbert's eyebrows had shot up at the mention of Gardner's name, and he asked in a deceptively light tone- "What appointment is that?"

"The _please explain_ one, Gilbert." Phil said impatiently. "The one where the question _why_ is asked."

He stepped in front of Anne, and bent down to get in her eye line. Her body was stiff as a ramrod and her eyes guarded.

"Anne, you don't have to do this." he said gently.

"I think it would be best to get it over with," she said, calming slightly as she looked at him. "We have most of the year left in many of the same classes, so putting it off is unlikely to help."

Gilbert's eyes never left hers. "Phil, what are you doing right now?"

"Why, nothing, Gilbert. I don't suppose you would like to have tea at the rooms across the road from Darcy's?" Phil said wickedly.

"Yes. Yes, I would," he said in a surprised tone, and then grinned. "And then when you are finished you can come and have an appointment with _us_."

Anne wiped a tear from her eye, a little hysterical laugh bubbling to the surface. As good as her word, Phil pulled Anne's arm through hers and chattered merrily to her as she and Gilbert walked with her from the college entrance. Ten minutes later, they stood before the lace-draped windows of Darcy's tea rooms, and Phil reached up to smooth Anne's hair carefully.

"Just remember honey, you be as calm and regal as any bluenose could be." she said, her voice soothing.

"And you don't have to justify anything," Gilbert added quietly.

"I know; thank you both." she said to them in a low voice.

"We'll be right across the street when you're done. Come now, Gilbert." Phil said, pulling him with her as Anne turned to walk inside.

* * *

Darcy's tearooms were elegantly furnished with claw-footed tables, and velvet padded chairs in rich colours. Roy was already seated at a small table in the corner screened by palms and rose to his feet as she was seated by the attendants. Tea was silently poured into dainty cups, and trays of finely cut sandwiches suddenly appeared.

Anne made only a pretence at drinking as they sat. To her relief, Roy wished to get to the point.

"I was very surprised to receive your letter, Anne." he said, his face taut.

"I know."

"I was wondering if you would have an explanation for the unexpected change of heart you seemed to experience?" he said, his tone biting.

Anne was pale, however, she answered him quietly. "Roy, as I explained in my letter, you and I come from very different places. Different worlds, in fact. I did wonder just how much we could have in common."

Roy waved a hand, with a deceptively mild tone. "We admire poetry, art. Fine music and the English language. What more in common would we need?" he asked.

Anne took a deep breath. "It's true. And those things do make the world more beautiful. But a relationship requires more than simply having common interests."

Roy's voice was bored. "Oh really? What more is there?"

"A relationship- or even a marriage is a _partnership,_ Roy. People who love each other, and are willing to work hard together, to grow and learn and see each other through harder times." Anne said, seeing little sign that he understood her point.

"And this we didn't have?"

Anne sighed. "Roy, you know very little about me." she floundered, trying to figure out how to explain thoughts that were still so new to herself. "I was a home child, who lived with very poor and broken families until I was sent to the orphanage. I didn't have a home or attend school regularly until I was eleven years old. In all the time you and I have been together, you never once asked me about where I came from."

"Wouldn't you have spoken up, if it honestly mattered to you? I would not have lightly brought up something that might cause you pain, Anne. And who you _were_ is not important- it is who you are _now_ that matters." he said impatiently.

A slight spark came to her eye then. "And yet who I _used_ to be is extremely relevant, if you were wanting a life with me. It's part of who I am."

Roy narrowed his eyes at her. "Anne, I am not interested in all the ways that you believed I failed you. I am far more concerned with what happened just before you sent me the letter."

"Roy, I told you my reasoning," she said with a sigh. "We don't belong together, and I think you must see that. Your world is a very different place to mine, and I think I would have needed to walk away from mine to live in yours. And my world matters a great deal to me- it _saved_ me."

Roy began to laugh bitterly. "Anne, let's not beat around the bush. This is not the first time someone has decided that I am not the one for them 'suddenly'. With the _other_ women-"

Anne's eyebrows lifted at this comment, and Roy responded bitingly. "Yes Anne, _the other women_ all found someone else when I wasn't around. There were _two days_ between your letters, Anne. Two very different letters and a very _big_ difference displayed in them."

Anne was shaking, but she held his eye steadily. "Roy, there is a book of revelation in everyone's life. I read mine in that time. There will come a time when you will have to read yours, and evaluate yourself by what you find in its pages. I need to be with someone who truly belongs in my life- and you deserve someone who belongs in yours. But I am not the woman for you, and I won't toy with your heart by pretending otherwise. You deserve better than that."

Roy's face took on a look that startled Anne, the polite façade he had always worn before her slipping.

"I don't believe this change can have been so sudden unless there were other factors involved," Roy said darkly. "You have amused yourself with me, and then thrown me aside when something better came along. So I'll ask you again- what happened in those two days?" he snapped.

Anne sat up, her eyes turning green. She stood to her feet, but her voice low.

"Roy, I have never lied to you, and I will not do so now. In those two days, I was at _home_. I went to my most beloved friend's wedding. I was with people who reminded me who I really was, people who know me and love me exactly as I am. It was this that made me understand why we cannot be together. I am sorry that I hurt you- and I hope one day you will understand that it was not consciously done. There is no other explanation I can give you."

She turned and walked out through the brass-rimmed doors, and outside into the bright sunshine. Roy looked around the empty tea room in dismay, thankful that at least few patrons remained to speculate and stare. In the time it took for him to settle the bill and leave the tea rooms, Anne's bright hair had already disappeared from the street.

* * *

Meanwhile, across the road, Gilbert had been watching the door to the tiny tea house for twenty long minutes. He and Phil had discussed classes, comparing algorithmic functions and Markov's theorem. While all this was very interesting, he amused himself by staring hard through Darcy's lace drapes and wondering what was happening over there.

When his voice would suddenly drop off mid-sentence, Phil watched him shrewdly. There was something going on with Gilbert and Anne- and she was going to figure it out.

Almost two and a half months since Anne broke up with Roy. And two and a half months since Anne's school friend's wedding- which she knew the two of them had attended. A proposal refused a year ago.

And no sign of Gilbert until right _now_.

When the silence grew noticeable, Gilbert looked back to Phil, who had an arrested look on her face.

"You're still in love with her, aren't you?" she said, her brown eyes looking at her candidly.

Gilbert looked back at her, seeing no sense in denying it. "Yes."

Phil was taken aback at the confirmation. "What of Christine Stuart?"

"She is an engaged friend," Gilbert replied calmly, folding his arms.

Phil let out a small gasp. "Did Anne know that?"

Gilbert grinned sheepishly. "She does now."

" _Gilbert Blythe_!" Phil said crossly. "You _let_ the general public believe that you were with her?"

"That was just Redmond gossip. If anyone had asked me I would have told them straight." he retorted.

Phil groaned. "For Pete's sake, what is the matter with you two?" She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Did something happen when you were both in Avonlea?"

"Yes. Something did," he said shortly. "And that's as much as you need to know."

Phil's lips thinned. "Gilbert, I care about Anne as I would a sister. I cannot handle how upset she has been lately, and _unless_ you plan-"

"I plan to ask her to marry me again one day," he said heatedly, trying to keep his voice low. "I love her, and I never stopped. Phil, I gave up when he was on the scene, and I walked away from our friendship because I couldn't deal with the pain anymore. I stood by, hoping she would at least be happy- and you know she _wasn't_. And she and I both found that out this summer."

"What _do_ you plan on doing?" Phil asked, after a few minutes to gather her thoughts.

"I plan on being the friend to her that she needs right now," Gilbert said firmly. "I am that still, and I will not _ever_ walk away from being that again, no matter what she decides. We need each other, Phil. I know that, and _she_ knows that."

Phil shook her head, a slow smile coming to her face. "Oh, Gilbert. You _do_ know I will be at your wedding, don't you?" she commented.

Gilbert grinned. "I certainly hope so." The smile left his face as he turned and looked across the street. "Do you think I actually have a chance?" he asked slowly. "Does she ever talk about me?"

Phil gave him an artificial smile. "I wouldn't know." she said, in a slightly brittle voice.

Gilbert frowned. "But Phil- if you and she are so close-"

Phil gave a dry laugh. "Yes, she will talk to me readily about anything else in the world. Just not you."

Gilbert's face froze, a little shard of hurt piercing him. Phil didn't seem to notice and kept talking, her face unusually sober.

"She hasn't mentioned your name to me since the night you proposed to her. When she told me- I- said some things to her that I shouldn't have, and was very harsh with her," she said slowly, and Gilbert looked across at her in shock. "I tried to apologise the next day, and she forgave me- but she simply wouldn't discuss you with me again. In everything else, it's been fine, but she won't go near your name with me- not for the last year and a half, not even the past two weeks."

Gilbert nodded, knowing Anne well. "Well, that would do it," he said dryly.

"I'm guessing that it's too close to home for her to go there, Gilbert." Phil sighed and gave him a slight smile. "But she _will_ be talking to someone, surely. Perhaps Diana. And I told you- she's happier that any of us have seen her in over a year. Happier, and even more scatterbrained than usual. I think on some level, even if she doesn't know it yet, that has to be about you."

Gilbert's big smile creased his handsome face, as he distractedly ruffled the brown curls on his forehead and folded his arms.

"Well Phil, if one fine day Anne does marry me, _and_ you attend the wedding: she'll surely have to mention me at some point to you."

Phil laughed, and then saw the doors they had been watching open, and a pale Anne stood there waiting to cross the street.

"She's coming now. Gilbert, I promise I'll do anything I can to help. But you aren't allowed to rest till she's yours-" she said fiercely.

"As if I _could_ -" he muttered.

"And I am dying of curiosity- you _have_ to tell me what happened between you two over the summer." She pleaded.

Gilbert flushed and shook his head, but couldn't stop the grin from popping up. "Sorry, Phil. I won't tell you till she does." It was with Phil's groan that Anne finally entered, and she made her way through the room crowded with college students, and to their sides thankfully.

* * *

Later that night, Anne sat in the lounge room at Patty's Place, a book in her hands and a cup of tea beside her. Phil had yawned and put herself to bed, however Anne relaxed in front of the fire, enjoying some time by herself to think.

Phil had been a darling- when Anne entered the little dining room, she had tucked her in close to her own chair, petting and soothing her ruffled feathers. Roundly abusing Roy, and chattering animatedly to bring a smile to Anne's face. Anne looked across at her twinkling brown eyes and realised with chagrin how much she had underestimated her friend. Gilbert himself had been fairly quiet, giving her a reassuring smile whenever she looked across at him.

When the three of them were finished and were standing on the streets, Phil left them to go to the grocers to pick up things for supper that evening. Anne and Gilbert were then left to walk home in the afternoon sunshine, in a companionable silence.

Once at Patty's place, Gilbert turned to her with a compassionate look.

"Are you alright, Anne?"

She smiled. "Thanks to you and Phil, I'm perfectly fine. I am glad that I will never need to have that particular conversation again," she said, making Gilbert chuckle.

"Are you at home on Friday night?" he asked her.

"Oh, I think so. I'm sure I have no plans," she said cheerfully.

"Good. Cancel them."

" _Cancel_ my lack of plans?"

"Yes. You can have no plans with me. We can freeze in the park, or roast by the fire. Your choice." He looked at her happy face and sighed; reluctantly pulling himself away.

"I'd better go; Professor Wheeler gave us three chapters to get through by tomorrow. And as fun as Phil is, she _is_ a distraction in class. I'm getting behind."

Anne laughed. "Yes, someone really should have warned you about that, Gilbert."

They had been talking over the gate, overgrown with the tiny tea roses that grew on the trellis; the tangled vines getting underfoot, and the sweet, faintly spicy smell hovering over their heads. Gilbert stretched long arms above her and plucked a small cluster of flowers from the archway. He leaned across the gate between them and tucked it into her red hair with a gentleness that made her heart beat wildly. She looked at him with big grey eyes, wondering how she had never noticed the sweet little gestures he had always lavished on her. He grinned at her then and tweaked her nose, and strode off down Spofford Avenue whistling. Anne watched him until he disappeared around the bend, and turned to go inside with an odd little smile.

Now, snuggled deeply into her favourite chair with the firelight flickering, Anne gave a contented sigh. Friday night was only a few days away, and she herself needed to catch up with some reading before then. She pulled the little flowers out of her hair with a smile, tracing the shell pink petals tenderly. Calmness and peace and friendship had returned to her life once more; and as she lifted the flowers to her nose, she smiled. Maybe some things weren't impossible after all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Gilbert was coming through the library late after a particularly vicious chemistry assessment. He looked down at the small acid burn on his hand with a wry smile. Vicious indeed. He had a few days to recover, though, and it wasn't so bad. He hitched his books under one arm and was walking along a row of floor to ceiling shelves when he heard it.

"So Roy, what happened with the dreamy red head?"

Gilbert's pace faltered.

"Rumour has it around campus that you're a free man."

Roy's unmistakable ironic tone came clearly through the shelves.

"Yes. Alas, my titian butterfly has flown."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. Roy. Still the consummate performer to the end. And then an entirely new voice came from him, causing Gilbert to stop sharply.

"Look, I don't know what happened. But I can tell you if that's how she treats a decent man, anyone is welcome to have her."

"Maybe someone else _did_." The second voice said, with an unkind laugh.

There was a loud bang, with what Gilbert assumed was a chair being moved with a vicious energy. "Well, _something_ happened. Everything was fine, I even convinced Mother to do some checking up on her to reassure herself on that front. Then she went back to Prince Edward Island for a wedding, and while she was supposed to be teaching in some little shanty town she wrote to tell me that it's over." There was the sound of a pen dropped on the desk, and his voice became surlier. "Well, if some backwater farm boy had her, he's welcome to her."

The blood was pounding in Gilbert's ears, and he strode around the corner to confront the men reclining under the green lamps. He threw his books down in front of Roy.

"What's the matter with you, Blythe?" Roy said angrily, leaping out of the way.

Gilbert's tone was quiet but menacing. "I suggest you get out of here, Bryce."

The young man first looked at him scornfully, and then he flinched as Gilbert's eyes flashed at him, his fists clenched. Bryce seemed to size up both the captain of the Redmond football team and the president of the student body, as he picked up his satchel and slunk away without a second glance at Roy.

Gilbert turned to a Royal Gardner who was not so easily intimidated.

"This is none of your concern," he said angrily.

"Anything you say about Anne publicly _is_ my concern. Don't _ever_ speak that way about her. I don't care what you think she did to you, no one has a right to talk like that about any woman, let alone one they supposedly cared about."

"Clearly you know nothing about women," Roy said, his voice indifferent. "They can defend themselves. And I fail to see why you should care."

"She's a friend, Gardner."

Roy laughed. "I don't recall seeing you around at all. And she doesn't have the ability to keep anyone decent around. I wouldn't waste my time with her."

Gilbert straightened up, a look of disgust on his face.

"Is this how you behave when you don't get what you want?" he asked. "Have you never had anyone refuse you before?"

Roy's brooding look turned ugly. "Have you never had anyone humiliate you, Blythe? Reject your love and dash your hopes? Throwing you over with very little explanation, leaving you to explain to the rest of the world what went wrong?"

The two men looked at each other for a moment, Gilbert's eyes hooded and cool. He spoke deliberately.

"I have. And it hurts like hell. But this isn't how you react. You take it like a man, and you don't resort to questioning her reputation to make yourself feel better. That's not how love behaves."

"That's for the saints," he sneered.

"No, that's how a gentleman does it. Don't _ever_ speak of Anne that way again."

"Or _what_?" Roy said, in a bored tone.

"Or you'll find out just how well us islanders stick together," Gilbert said grimly.

"And what of the fact that there are vague rumours of there being someone else?" Roy said in his smooth, cultured voice. He sat back, folding his arms. "Someone supposedly _from_ your beloved isle? I've been hearing whispers since we returned." Gilbert froze. "There were just _two days_ between her letters _._ Try and explain to me what could possibly happen in two days."

Gilbert looked at him piercingly. "I certainly can't give you any answers. But when a lady tells you she isn't interested; you deal with it without spreading lies. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"I will not have _you_ telling me how to act. And besides, what makes you think I would listen to you?" Roy sneered.

Sharp hazel eyes levelled his dark blue ones. "Because your attendance here is far more honorary than the faculty is aware of, isn't it?" Gilbert stated calmly. Roy looked at him, suddenly wary. "I'll only say this to you once, Gardner. Leave Anne alone."

"Do you really think I can be so easily intimidated? Do you _know_ who my family is?" Roy snapped, in one last attempt to gain the upper hand.

Gilbert menacingly rose to his full height, and Roy stumbled backwards quickly. He shot Roy a contemptuous glance and picked up the stack of books. "I don't care who they are. You can tell them that the president is back in the house."

* * *

Gilbert walked home to his boarding house that afternoon, still fuming from his encounter. Of all of the spoiled, petty people he had ever met, he had to be the worst. Still, there was one big consolation- Anne wasn't marrying him, and never would be.

As he walked upstairs and through the sticky, brown-papered halls, he went into his room and shut the door, locking it behind him. He wasn't in the mood for a visit from Charlie yet. He threw his books on the rickety desk, and himself on the bed beside it.

Gilbert let out a deep breath, and lay back on his pillow and kicked his shoes off. He loosened his tie and collar, lazily crossed one ankle over the other knee. With a heavy sigh, he looked up at the watermarked ceiling. He _did_ know what it was like to be rejected by Anne Shirley. He shuddered, remembering the ache, remembering how close he had come to losing her for good. It had nearly killed him.

And whatever Roy was or wasn't, he knew that feeling now.

Although he couldn't feel _all_ that bad for him.

A slight grin crossed his face, and the hazel eyes began to twinkle in a thoroughly unsympathetic manner. He really _could_ have told Roy what happened in those two days. And he was still so completely surprised that it was _him_ that tipped the balance. That wretched night in the schoolhouse was the luckiest thing that had ever happened to him, though it certainly hadn't seemed so at the time. And maybe there was still a long road ahead of him- maybe there was no guarantee of a future with Anne.

But just maybe Providence _did_ know what He was doing.

The smile was wiped off his face by Roy's question though- about vague rumours of _someone else_. Gilbert let out a breath. No one apart from his father knew; although was it even about that? Or was it the rumours that had _always_ persisted, usually helped along by Charlie's tactless big mouth? He'd been at Diana's wedding; talking loudly about his delightful little Nicole and the fact that she considered him to be a most superior man.

Well, there was nothing he could do. Roy would feel badly for a time, and hopefully would learn to keep his mouth shut about it. If there were rumours- and at Redmond there always _were_ : well, if Gilbert had his way, they would have more to talk about soon enough.

* * *

Two evenings after this, Gilbert arrived at the door of Patty's place again and was ushered into the cosy living room by Aunt Jimsie. Stella and Phil already had their study materials covering most of the little table, and Phil was loudly complaining about the size of Stella's textbooks.

Jimsie settled comfortably in her chair by the fire again, and took up her knitting.

"Priscilla, do be a dear and go fill the kettle again. I am sure by the time you are finished it will be time for a warm cup of tea again. You may as well lay the service while you are doing so, there's a good girl. Philippa, _do_ stop your complaining; and you really must get a larger vase for those flowers on the mantelpiece, the neck of that small one will surely shatter under the strain. Go fix that, before you get started."

Aunt Jimsie turned to Gilbert kindly now.

"Sit down dear; although I do wonder just where you could sit, with every surface littered with bodies and papers."

Gilbert grinned. "I'm sure I'll find a perch somewhere." He looked around the room and finally asked nonchalantly where Anne was.

"Oh, she was fussing around upstairs." Jimsie said comfortably. "I'm sure she will be down soon."

Soon enough was, in fact, another five minutes later. She carried her books awkwardly, her face flushed, and walked down with her blue skirt swishing against the stairs. Gilbert rose to meet her with a grin.

"Hanging back to make an entrance?" he asked in an undertone.

She flushed with embarrassment. "No, just a silly mistake. We'll have to use the dining room tonight; Priscilla is taking over the desk out here soon." Gilbert took her books without a word, and was puzzled by the evident sigh of relief when he did. The passed into the little dining room off the kitchen, and as he sat down next to her, he saw her briefly rub her wrist with a frown.

He crossed his arms and grinned. "Alright, Carrots; what did you do?"

Anne rolled her eyes. "We're back to _Carrots_ again?"

"We never left it. What happened?"

Anne sighed and held up her wrist. "I was just trying to get something down from the top shelf in my room. And I fell."

"You fell off what exactly?" he said, confused, and she put her face in her hand sheepishly.

"Off my bed," came her muffled voice. Gilbert started to laugh and laughed even harder at the look on her face.

"You stood on your _bed_ to reach the top shelf?"

"Well, clearly not successfully," Anne grumbled, and she jumped as Gilbert reached out to take her injured hand in both of his. He shook his head at her with a twinkle in his eye and felt around it carefully.

Anne's face was a bright pink, as she felt his fingers move around the joints in a gentle manner. Partly to cover her embarrassment as he rotated her hand, she spoke. "Is this the future doctor I'm seeing here?"

He grinned. "No, it's the boy whose mother had to do this to him at least a few times every month. I fell off a lot of things when I was a kid."

Completing his examination, he held her hand in front of him. "It's not broken, but you've got some soft tissue damage near the joint there. Didn't Marilla ever tell you not to jump on beds?"

Anne chuckled. "Only once. Marilla only has to tell you something once, normally." She took her hand back, with a smile. "She does rather inspire awe in one, somehow."

Gilbert chuckled as he pulled a textbook out. "Tell me about it." He looked at her sideways. "Did she ever tell you about the time _I_ had to go and apologise to her?"

Anne's eyes were wide. "No! What happened?"

Gilbert laughed. "I was six. My father had some business with Matthew one day, and he took me with him. I was told to go and amuse myself-"

"Oh dear-"

" _Exactly_ -" he added dryly. "And so six-year-old me did. I got into Marilla's rose bed and picked all of the buds to feed to her chickens. Who as it happened, _didn't_ eat the evidence."

Anne was laughing hard by this point. "Oh Gil. And Marilla is so fond of her roses. What did she do?"

"Dad insisted that I apologise, and I was shaking in my boots," he said with a grin. "I stood in front of her in the kitchen, and when I said that I was sorry, she bent down, and looked at me so hard- and then she gave me a doughnut. I was so shocked I nearly choked on it."

Anne clapped her hands. "Oh Gil, that's just like Marilla. She's nowhere near as fierce as she looks, although she pretends it beautifully. And you do look so like your father, I'm sure she saw him in you. She _couldn't_ have punished you then."

Gilbert looked at her in surprise. "Anne- I- I didn't- did _you_ know about them?"

She gave him a curious smile. "Yes, she told me. I didn't know if _you_ knew."

His eyes narrowed, and he grinned. "So we both knew my Dad and Marilla liked each other when they were young and we didn't _tell_ each other?"

Anne laughed. "It was neither of our secrets to tell, Gilbert."

Gilbert's eyes swung to her, and leaning back on the dining room chair like the schoolboy she remembered, he spun a pencil on his fingertips lightly.

"So are there any secrets you're keeping from me now?" he teased, his voice low. She started slightly, and the blush covered her face again. Gilbert watched her flounder momentarily and grinned at her confusion. He loved to see her flustered, and was beginning to see that she was undeniably affected by his presence- and inside his chest, his exultation roared at the fact.

"Never mind," he said lightly. "I'm sure every woman has secrets." He turned to lay out his schoolwork, noticing out of the corner of his eye that she was still watching him dumbfounded.

"You need to stop watching me, Miss Shirley," Gilbert said, scanning his pages with apparent absorption. "You'll distract me from my work, and then where will we be?"

Anne pulled herself together with an effort and turned to her own studies with a slightly dazed look. There was work in front of her, and her own aching hand rested on the table. The girls were all in the next room, and her own little blue room sat above them. These were concrete things, and yet the only thing she seemed to feel at that moment was the warmth of Gilbert at her side, and the giddiness she got whenever he looked at her the way he was doing. It was with a jolt that she realised he always _had_ looked at her like that.

She opened her notebook to a new page and settled down to work with a slight shake of her head. She did, however, flick her eyes across to Gilbert before she did so, and although he was focusing on the page in front of him, she saw him grin. His own glance caught hers then, and he winked at her before turning his eyes back to differential calculus.

* * *

When the young people stopped for supper, Aunt Jimsie presided over the table complacently. The household was in order, and those under her care were well occupied for the night. While everyone was busy talking, Phil asked Gilbert to look over her notes from the class that day. He moved out of earshot of the others, and while he was bent over the little table, Phil used the opportunity to have a quick word.

"So I heard a funny rumour today…." she began, a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh?"

"Rumour has it that _someone_ gave Roy a stern talking to about some not very nice things he has been saying about Anne."

Gilbert's eyes flicked up to her in surprise, and he quickly looked towards Anne.

"Oh, she hasn't heard. I heard it from one of the library staff."

Gilbert tried to shrug, unconcerned. "You really shouldn't believe everything you hear."

Phil frowned. "You _didn't_ threaten him?"

"No, I did," he said stoically. "I was just practising denying it in case Anne ever asked me."

Phil began to laugh. "Why wouldn't you tell her?"

Gilbert looked over at her happy face, as she laughed and talked with the other girls. Stella batted Anne playfully with one of Miss Ada's cushions- who would have been horrified at her using it as such. He smiled, and then he turned back to Phil, shaking his head.

"She doesn't need to know what he's been saying. You won't tell her?"

Phil looked at him thoughtfully. "No. But she will have to know the lengths you go to for her eventually, Gilbert."

He chuckled. "Don't worry about that. She's going to know."

Phil held back a squeal. "When?"

The grin on his face was huge when he answered. "I don't know. Maybe Christmas."

She pouted. "And then we won't all be there!"

Gilbert grabbed a piece of toast from the little table, his eyes twinkling. "Funnily enough, that's not such a concern for me." He said. "She and I will be. That's all that matters, isn't it?"

* * *

Eventually, the girls packed up their materials, and Jimsie shooed them to bed. Anne and Gilbert were forgotten in the little dining room and came out eventually to find the fire low, and the room dim. Anne gave a little chuckle and flopped into one of the chairs by the fire.

"What's so funny?" Gilbert asked, with a smile.

She looked over at him. "Oh, just thinking about you and I finding ourselves in the darkness with a fire. It's just like at the schoolhouse. Only- _without_ the hurricane and bottled up rage."

Gilbert raised his eyebrows and sat down next to her. "You can't possibly be comparing this place to that, Anne- look how comfortable we are. We would have _killed_ to have had some tea, and comfortable sofas."

Anne smiled, looking into the fire thoughtfully. "But the same company. I don't know what I would have done if you weren't there, Gil."

"Nor I you."

The two of them looked at each other for a long minute. Her hand was close to his on the arm of the chair, and she slid her fingers across to his.

"Can you promise me something, Gil?" she asked softly.

"Anything, Anne-girl." he said with a smile, his fingers curling around hers.

"Promise me we can't lose this again."

He looked over at her, startled. She was looking at him so wistfully, and he squeezed her fingers. "We can't," he whispered.

She sighed. "How do you know?"

"Because I won't let that happen."

Anne looked at him, his hazel eyes looking into her own steadily. She nodded, with a little smile. "Neither will I."

They sat there for several more minutes in silence until Gilbert reluctantly stood up.

"I'd better be getting home. I have an early class in the morning."

Anne stood as well and walked him to the door when he had collected his books.

"How's the hand?"

She lifted it for inspection, and he touched it gently.

"You should bandage it, that should stop it getting even more injured through the night," Gilbert said, with a grin. "And no more jumping on beds, Miss Shirley."

Anne's eyes narrowed, and she went to retort- but then he lifted her sore hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on it before she could say anything. He watched her mouth open in surprise, and he smiled at the colour that heated her cheeks.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Anne."

She still hadn't found her tongue yet when she closed the door behind him and trailed up to her room absently. She welcomed the silence of her little blue room and the rusty coloured cat who purred and prowled around her bed. When she at last lay under the apple leaf covers, she found herself remembering the sound of the rain falling steadily in the schoolroom, and the soft, even breathing of Gilbert nearby. With these thoughts, she sighed and eventually drifted off to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

October seemed brighter than it ever had, to Gilbert. His professors were pleased at his progress, hinting that his hard work would pay off well- although he did wonder how much the previous year's insomnia was responsible for that. Sleep was strange, he mused. Up to eight hours of planned unconsciousness every day. He was still trying to get used to the sensation again.

The first time he slept all night, he had woken up on the second day of college that year, dismayed to find the daylight streaming in through the curtains. He raced down to the dining room in a blind panic, pulling his tie and jacket on as he went. As he skidded into the room, he saw that the timepiece over the crumbling mantelpiece only read seven o clock. He nearly bent double in relief, trying to catch his breath. What on earth had happened to him?

"There you are. I thought I'd have to ring the fire bell if you weren't up soon." A hearty voice said.

Mrs Saunders was the landlady, a big woman with a keen eye and loud laugh. As Charlie often grumbled, she had a certain soft spot for Gilbert. His boyish looks and tidy habits made him a firm favourite, and the cheeky grin he gave her every day was most welcome amongst the more serious young men. He'd worried her, last year.

She delighted in looking after the college's young men, boys that reminded her of the two sons who had settled out west many years ago. Mr Saunders was a little man who worked for the local mercantile and enjoyed swapping tales with the young men over the breakfast and dinner tables. He was seated there on this second day, and Gilbert dropped into his seat in relief.

Charlie sniffed in disapproval as he sucked on his prunes studiously.

"Do you _have_ to do that each morning?" Gilbert asked, turning away from him in disgust.

"Regularity of bowel is no joke, Blythe." Charlie retorted, his long face set in a frown. "If the meals here had a little less starch I wouldn't need to be eating them so often. And what happened to the early rising habit? Lost your enthusiasm?"

"Oh- I er- I slept in." Gilbert said lamely.

"Plenty of time, Gilbert." Mr Saunders said, over his paper. "You boys don't have to leave for an hour yet."

Gilbert chuckled. It wasn't the most fashionable place, and there were much better situations- but when his mother asked him if he was being looked after well, he had to say that he was. Their caretakers were kind and jovial people, who fussed over them almost as much as their own parents could do.

As he settled in to eat the breakfast Mrs Saunders just placed before him, he thought that there was only one other place he would prefer to be- and that was the little house on Spofford Avenue where Anne lived.

* * *

In the present, Gilbert was sitting in the little study the Saunders' had set up facing the streets. The night lamps gleamed through misty window panes as he tried to focus on his work. It was nearly ten now, and he rubbed his eyes, thinking longingly of bed. Ironic, now he could sleep properly again, it seemed to be all that he wanted to do.

He was alone in the room, and pushed himself away from the desk, only to prop long feet on it with an even longer sigh.

"Still up?"

He jumped, seeing Mr Saunders himself flop down in the overstuffed armchair with a grunt.

"I'm just finishing now." He began to pack up his books, deciding the schoolwork could wait until tomorrow.

"There's no rush. Penelope's still working on the laundry."

Gilbert grinned, knowing his landlady's relentless energy. He settled back in the chair again, pushing his books to one side.

"So what's her name?" He looked up at the older man sharply, who merely chuckled. "I'm looking for the reason you've been mooning around here for the last month or so, Gilbert."

Gilbert rubbed one hand behind his neck, a slow smile coming to his face.

"Thought so. Who is she?"

"A girl from home," Gilbert admitted after a moment. "She's a student here too."

"Ah. College love." The older man chuckled. "Affects three-quarters of the student population, I figure. Is it serious?"

Gilbert chuckled slightly. "It will be. I hope so, anyway."

Mr Saunders leant back on his seat, his beady eyes watching him expectantly. "Does she know how you feel?"

Gilbert shuffled in his seat uncomfortably. "I hope so. I mean, I think she does. And I think she might feel that way too- I'm pretty sure she- well, it's a bit complicated." He finished, his face flushed.

Soundless chuckling came from the lounge. "It sounds like you've got some work to do, son."

Reluctantly, Gilbert laughed too. "I know. I guess I was waiting for something a bit more- concrete. I just wanted to be sure it wouldn't end badly this time."

"Son, you're never going to know," he said kindly. Gilbert looked at him in shock, and the wizened old eyes met his. "It's a risk. All love is. You're just going to have to take the chance."

Gilbert's eyes were on the pen he was playing with. He shook his head. "I don't think I'll forgive myself if I mess it up again," he said after a minute.

Mr Saunders nodded silently. "Yeah. But then you won't be able to live with yourself if you don't try, either."

Gilbert let out a deep breath. "Fair point."

"Is she worth it?" the older man asked.

Never far from Gilbert's thought's, he pictured Anne. Smiling across the room at him, chattering happily about everything under the sun, with her sweet laugh echoing in his ears. Of _course_ she was.

"Yes. She's worth it." Gilbert said finally.

The old man chuckled. "Go to bed, Gil. Work on it in the morning."

Not long after, Gilbert lay in his darkened room and tried to close his eyes. His window was open, and he could hear distant shouts of the workers at the docks several streets over, and the sound of steam trains shunting in the opposite direction. The now-familiar noises of a city at night time washed over him, and he lay wondering what Anne could hear in her little blue room at night.

Restlessly he threw off his pyjama shirt, and flung one tanned arm above his head. There were times when it was maddening to think of his future; not being sure what lay around the bend in the road was driving him crazy. He thought of Ted Saunders' words- no, he supposed he never _would_ be completely sure. But Anne was looking at him like she never had before. She was blushing because of _him_. He had often stretched a hand to her in the past, to help her or somehow get her attention. Sometimes she would react, other times not at all. Then a season of nothing, of seemingly endless separation and regret. _Now_ , however, it was her eyes watching him, her hand reaching to touch _him_. He'd nearly fallen over a few times in shock when she'd first done it.

In the darkness, he let out a breath. He wouldn't rush them- and he couldn't rush her. But he had to start somewhere.

And when Gilbert Blythe went to sleep that night, he stretched out his lean torso on the firm mattress. He had a plan. He knew that she loved him- he knew how much he mattered to her. But he needed her to know that he was the man who would love her for all of her days- that he was the one she was waiting for.

* * *

The following Saturday, Gilbert was yet to come down from his room. He'd been up for a few hours, choosing to finish his work for the weekend that morning and enjoy some well-earned time off. He looked up from his work at Mrs Saunders' call.

"Gilbert, there is a young lady here to see you. I've put her in the parlour."

Nearly falling over himself in his rush to get up, he opened the door and passed the good lady with a grin, his mind racing. Why would Anne come to see him here? They had plans to go on a picnic at lunchtime, organised that the night before. He walked into the parlour and pulled up short as he spied the smooth dark hair over the top of the chair.

" _Christine_?"

"So you do remember my name, Mr Blythe!" she said sweetly. She rose from her chair, her deep purple dress swishing across the floor. She walked up to him boldly, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Her perfume was dizzying, the thick exotic scent filling his nostrils. He stepped back slightly, his look confused.

She walked back to the small armchair, and sat down, her hands casually resting on the arms "You've barely had time to see me, Gilbert."

"It's my senior year, Christine." he reminded her. "The work was always going to be consuming my time."

"And yet I don't think your mind has been on that, has it?"

He looked at her sharply, sitting on the furthermost chair he could find.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

She laughed, the sound grating against him the way it often had. "Oh Gilbert, don't play coy with me. Word has it that you've been sticking closer to home than usual. Have you given up on society? I thought the Lambs demanded little more of a public profile than you have been showing lately."

Gilbert's smile was rather fixed. That much was fact- he had missed several social events, choosing to keep his Friday nights free for long walks through the autumn evenings with Anne.

Christine watched him carefully. She'd heard where Gilbert's attention was going lately- however, she had no intention of letting go of her primary escort without a fight. She had cultivated this relationship with the handsome and serious boy over the past year, seeing with approval the natural leadership and influence he held over his peers. Ronald was right, he'd been good company. A small smile came to those perfect red lips.

"The music society is having a concert in the park tomorrow evening. I thought you could accompany me, if your _studies_ can release you for a short time."

Gilbert folded his arms, with a small smile. How many of these little functions had he been coerced into in the last year? Places he kept seeing Anne at a distance, escorted by the ever artistic and musical Roy. Places he had tried to avoid, but every time he'd just end up back there again. He'd already thought about this, he knew it was a conversation he and Christine would have to have.

"Look, you were a good friend to me last year, and you have no idea how much I needed that then," he said frankly. "Ronald asked me to keep an eye on you because he was afraid you would get lonely. But as we know, you now have a much better social life than I do."

She smiled at him then, her eyes slightly narrowed.

"Christine, there was a lot of silly gossip that went around about the two of us, and I should have said something about that to you before. You didn't deny it, but I should have. I'm sure Andrew can't have approved." he stated.

"Don't be ridiculous Gilbert, you know he liked you very much when he came to visit in February." she said with a pout. "He feels completely safe having you to see me around."

Gilbert folded his arms. "Well, he shouldn't," he said bluntly. "If someone else was seeing the girl that I loved as often as I saw you, that would make me very uncomfortable."

She leant forward, her arms folded on the chair facing him. "Oh?" she said teasingly.

"My point is that you don't need me anymore, Christine," he said calmly. "You have a large circle of friends, and I think it's time for you to take advantage of that. I'm not going to be running around to every social event, the Lambs can make of that what they will. I need to work hard this year, and I also need to make more time for the people that I grew up with. I barely saw them last year, and I want that to change."

Christine's smile thinned, however she kept it in place with an effort.

"So you're ditching me, Mr Blythe?" she said sweetly.

Gilbert laughed. "No, you know that's not it. Christine, you move in a society I can't keep up with. You know it's not who I am. You've tried in the past to make me the perfect substitute for Andrew, and I failed at it terribly. You told me that often enough."

She laughed a little. "You do make a terrible high-society gentleman," she admitted.

"Exactly. Look, Christine, I'm grateful," he said honestly. "You made the last year survivable, and that was no mean feat. But circumstances have changed for me, and we don't need to go back to that dynamic again."

Never one to suffer disappointment publicly, Christine sighed, and put on a winning smile.

"Well Mr Blythe, I see I shall have to content myself with some other handsome man for an escort. Perhaps Brendan Walsh will do." She turned in her seat gracefully, picking up her beaded handbag and parasol.

Gilbert laughed. "I'm sure he'd be honoured. And I'll be seeing you around, no doubt."

She looked back at him then. "I wonder how much this has to do with some rumours I heard recently," she said, her tone deceptively mild. "The ones that say that Anne Shirley is no longer with Royal Gardner."

He stood up from his seat as she did, his face inscrutable, and she gave a short laugh. "Oh don't mind me, Mr Blythe. Your secret is safe enough. Is it safe with her, though?" she said, her eyes holding his evenly.

He gave her a searching look, wondering what prompted that question.

"I'll be seeing you then, Gilbert." she said archly then, and blew him a kiss as she walked past him and out the door.

Standing with his fists clenched, he forced himself to take a deep breath. He knew Anne. And he thought he knew Christine. Was she trying to warn him? Or did she have another motive altogether? The sickly scent still lingered in the air, and with a look of disgust, he realised it was on his clothing now. He moved into the hallway and ran into Ted Saunders.

"So was that your young lady?" he asked, looking up at the young man knowingly.

Gilbert backed down the hallway, towards the staircase.

"Nope. That's not her," he said with a grin. "You'll know it when it's her." He ran up the stairs, looking at his pocket watch as he went. He would need to hurry to get ready on time, but he simply had to get changed now before meeting Anne.

* * *

An hour later and he was at her doorstep, hat in hand. She met him at the door with a beaming smile and a large basket, and the two of them headed into the park to find a nice place to have their lunch.

"So what were you doing this morning?" he asked her, watching her push a small red curl out of her eyes, and tucking it behind one ear. Anne leant against the tree they were under and looked up into the dappled sunshine thoughtfully.

"I was finishing some Psychology readings, actually."

"Oh? Anything I should need to know about?" he teased.

Anne smiled. "Only if you are the narcissistic type, Gilbert. Or if you have Oedipus complex that no one has uncovered yet."

He laughed at that. "Personally, I always thought Oedipus was a bit weird."

Anne chuckled. "So what did _you_ do this morning?"

Gilbert looked at her, his eyes twinkling. "I had a little talk with Christine." He didn't miss the stiffening of her posture, or the wide look of alarm that she quickly tried to hide from him.

"Oh?" she said, in as neutral a voice as she could manage. Gilbert grinned, trying to phrase it delicately.

"I told her she would need to find another escort to the social events this year, that I would be- fairly well _permanently_ busy."

Anne's face was slightly pink, however he had to admire the composure she was showing. Certainly _he_ couldn't have managed to look as calm as she was doing now- but he hid his grin. He knew her better than that.

"Well, it is your final year, I suppose." she said slowly.

"It is." He then took her hand in his. "And you know I _do_ like to focus on my studies," he said seriously.

She shot him a suspicious look, but couldn't prevent a small smile.

"And is this picnic keeping you from said studies, Mr Blythe?" she asked. He shrugged carelessly.

"We'll never know for sure, Anne. But even serious students need to eat."

Anne laughed, pulling her hand from his to reach for another drink from the cups she had brought.

"Say, Miss Shirley," Gilbert said carefully. "How long is it since we went to a dance together?"

Anne looked at him, puzzled. "I don't know- it would have to be over eighteen months ago."

He nodded, and there was a silence between them for a few minutes. When he looked over at her again, her intelligent grey eyes were fixed on him, slightly bewildered.

He grinned. "Anne, would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the Hannerford Ball in a month's time?"

She had been asked by him so many times to accompany him to social engagements, that she should have felt completely calm at this turn of events. Still, as she looked into sparkling hazel eyes framed with brown curls that wouldn't keep from straying in the autumn wind, she found herself struggling to find her tongue again.

"I'd- I'd be delighted." she answered with a conscious smile.

"Good. You know it's no fun without you," he said, giving her a grin, and helping himself to another cookie.

Anne laughed at this, but couldn't keep herself from saying- "You too, Mr Blythe."

* * *

A week later, Gilbert was roused from his books again by another tap on his bedroom door. It was only just nine in the morning, and he'd only just gotten back to work after breakfast.

"Mr Blythe, there's a young lady here to see you." Mrs Saunders had a knowing look about her, however, that was something Gilbert missed.

He frowned and gave a sigh as he stood from his desk. Christine had waylaid him a few times on campus that week, and often when Anne was somewhere nearby. He had tried to extricate himself, often with some difficulty. Even his natural modesty didn't prevent him from seeing that her timing wouldn't just be a coincidence. He really didn't want to have that particular conversation again. He walked past Mrs Saunders again, who merely told him to go to the small parlour with a slight smile.

He pushed through the little door reluctantly, to see not Christine but Anne herself, hovering by a little table that unmistakably held an iced cake. He looked at her in shock, his heart thudding, and mouth open in surprise.

"Happy twenty-fourth birthday, Gil!" she said, with a shy smile. He crossed the room with a huge grin, and wrapped her up in a tremendous hug, before releasing her to look at the cake.

"Anne, did you make this?"

He watched as she clapped her hands with glee. "I did. And you will be glad to know that there is _no_ anodyne liniment in it, and no mice drowned while I was making it. I had to keep Phil away from devouring it all last night, so you are lucky that it made it here safely. I wanted to do something special, especially since I missed your last birthday- I was thinking about you then, though." She looked at him, her eyes suddenly worried. "I sent a note to Mrs Saunders early last week, asking her if I could bring this around, she very kindly let me know that I could. I hope you don't mind that I visited here, I just wasn't sure what you were doing today, and didn't want to miss you."

"I think it's the best surprise I'll get all day," he replied, grinning. "How did you get it here safely?"

Anne laughed. "That's a bit of a story, so I will save that until later. Suffice it to say that a 'cake walk' is far more complicated than I ever imagined."

At this juncture, Mrs Saunders unexpectedly brought in a tray laid with tea things. Her husband followed behind with napkins and cutlery, and while Anne wasn't looking, he raised one eyebrow at the besotted young man before him and nodded in the direction of the tall red-headed girl. Gilbert flushed and gave the older man a big grin. He gave him a quick thumbs up sign and Ted nodded, smiling. The older couple left them to their own devices and closed the door gently behind them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

On a Thursday evening late in October, Anne was sitting alone in front of the fireplace. Gilbert was due at any time, and everyone else was preparing to go out for the evening.

"Anne, are you sure you don't want to come to the concert this evening?" Stella asked, walking down the stairs with her coat over one arm.

Anne laughed, armed with a lapful of cats and notes. "I think even if I wanted to, Rusty wouldn't give up his cushion so easily." She said with a grin. "No, Gilbert will be here soon, we're starting some exam preparations tonight."

Stella rolled her eyes. "Honestly, it's all the pair of you _do_. Couldn't the two of you just come with us tonight? The orchestra is only in town this evening."

"No, I think we just need a quiet night at home." Anne said absently, and then flinched at her unintentional comment. She looked back to see Stella wrapping a scarf around her throat, her eyes twinkling.

"Playing house, are we now, Anne?" she teased, and went to call up the stairs. "Priss, _come_ _on_ now! I want seats at the front this time! Anne honey, Aunt Jimsie is in bed with a headache, she took some of her drops and will probably sleep all night now. We should be home by ten." At that moment Priscilla arrived, tucking a stray curl into her little fur trimmed hat.

" _Do_ stop nagging Stella, you're almost as bad as my mother." she said cheerfully. "We have plenty of time to get a nice seat to observe the string section." She bent down to Anne in a stage whisper. "She thinks that violinists are the most _romantic_ musicians…"

Stella narrowed her eyes. "Well, let's get going and see them then." She turned back to Anne. "Have a nice evening at home _mama_ , I'll be sure to not wake you when we get back." she said impishly, and then heard a knock at the door. "Oh! And there's _papa_ now."

Anne's face was bright red and hidden under a cushion, as Priss welcomed Gilbert into the warm room. He looked at the two young ladies in the doorway, both watching him in barely controlled mirth.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Nothing, Gilbert. We'll be sure to leave your slippers by the fire next time." Stella said, as they ran out the door laughing.

Gilbert was at sea at this, and turned to an Anne who hadn't yet emerged from her cushion.

"Do I want to know?" he asked dubiously.

She came out then with a small groan, shaking her head. She was still blushing, and kept her eyes lowered. "No, not really. It's just girl-talk."

She felt the sofa move as he sat down next to her, promptly plucking the Sarah-Cat from Anne's lap and placing her on his own. Anne chuckled as the Sarah-Cat settled there contentedly, rubbing her head against his hand, purring. She then looked up at Gilbert and jumped in shock, promptly dislodging Rusty and a textbook from her lap. Her eyes were wide open, and she looked at him in blankly.

"Gilbert Blythe, what have you _done_ to yourself?" she cried in astonishment.

A smile curved his mouth teasingly. "It's just a haircut, Anne."

Still reeling in shock, she placed a tentative hand on either side of his head, examining it with a frown on her face. His hair was clipped short now, and little remained of the brown curls she was used to seeing. She found herself looking into his twinkling hazel eyes, trying to trace the boy she used to know in the man sitting beside her.

"Gilbert, your mother is going to be _horrified_." she said severely. "You _know_ how she adores your curls."

He laughed at that. "Anne, I'm twenty-four. I haven't needed my mother's permission on haircuts for years. I thought it made me look a bit older."

She shyly took her hands off his face then. "It does. And it's just as handsome. It's just very different."

"Ah, so you think I'm _handsome_."

She rolled her eyes. "You know very well that you are, Mr Blythe. Stop fishing for compliments."

His chest puffed out a little, and he looked at his companion with a cheeky grin. He'd been working on getting closer, and study nights at Patty's place were becoming routine a few times a week, despite the tormenting from Phil. Speaking of Phil….

"So no one else is at home?" he asked. Anne seemed to flush unaccountably at that word, but she answered readily enough.

"Aunt Jimsie is in bed, and Phil is at a church supper with Jo. They should be home before the others."

The night proceeded as it often did, with a quiet comparing of notes, and short breaks for tea and toast by the fire. And then the notes would slip to one side, and they would end up facing each other on the sofa, talking and laughing as they used to in the green fields and hollows they grew up in.

In a rare silence, Anne looked over at Gilbert. He was staring into the fireplace deep in thought, and she was able to study the changes she saw in his face. The hollows in his cheeks had filled out again, and his eyes had lost the dead look that frightened her not too many months ago. His new haircut let her see the contours of his face better, the sides of his jaw darkening with the faint stubble of the evening. She let her eyes wander to the crisp white shirt now stretching under his waistcoat, his well-built arm flung behind them on the sofa. He had loosened his collar, and as she traced its curves around his neck thoughtfully, she suddenly caught her breath in shock. What on earth was she _doing_?

He looked over at her gasp, and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Tea." she stuttered. "I should refill the tea." She jumped up then, and moved out of the room, forgetting the little teapot entirely.

Once in the kitchen, she leant on the small washbasin in shock. Good grief, what was _wrong_ with her? Gilbert had always been handsome, it wasn't like she didn't know that before- except that now she found herself wanting to run her fingers through his newly shorn hair- and realised with embarrassment that she had already unthinkingly _done_ that. Oh, this wasn't safe- and she knew she'd been thinking about doing more than _that_ lately.

With a blush that seemed to burn all over her body, she thought again of the goodbye that she had believed was for all time. She had been standing so close to Gilbert on the storm-ravaged crossroads- his arms were wrapped so tightly around her, and she had longed to speak, to tell him how much she cared. But the words wouldn't come, and she had acted instinctively. Not thinking about how inappropriate it was, not thinking about Roy, or the possible consequences- only thinking about the bond that held her to Gilbert.

And now it seemed to taunt her- she had his friendship, she had his esteem, but she was his _friend_. And friends didn't go around staring at each other- or spending far too much time wondering what it would have felt like if he had kissed her back. Or if he kissed her _now_.

Anne drew a shaking breath. She was dismayed to find that this was happening more frequently now. There was already so much at stake- she needed to stay in his life. She needed him in _hers_. Tears that had not fallen in weeks now threatened to come to the surface. She _couldn't_ lose him again. And she somehow had to control these bizarre impulses- she was lucky he had still decided to stay, after she had done that to him.

Some deep breaths later, and Anne returned to the living room with a plate of cookies. Gilbert looked at her a little strangely.

"Weren't you going for tea?" he asked.

"Oh. I was." she said vaguely, trying to pull herself together. "But then I forgot the teapot."

Gilbert chuckled, and rose to his feet. "I'll give you a hand."

Anne sighed, watching him head into the little kitchen.

 _Because that's what I need_ , she thought dryly. _Closer_ _proximity…._

While they were working to refresh their tray, Anne heard a laugh on the front porch and went out of the kitchen to answer the door. Gilbert followed, putting the small tray on the sideboard. Suddenly they heard a muffled sound that made Anne freeze. She looked back at Gilbert in consternation, as what was unmistakably Jo's voice said- "Phil dear, you _know_ we shouldn't do this out here-"

Gilbert choked back a laugh and grabbed Anne quickly, and pulled her into the little dining room as the front door opened abruptly, and a well occupied Phil and Jo came through. Gilbert's hand was on her waist, and it slipped around to her front as she closed the little door before them silently, hoping they hadn't been seen. In the darkened room they stood in shock, Gilbert's comforting warm hand on her middle, pulling her back against his chest.

"Gil, we can't stay here all night," Anne whispered, the laughter bubbling up.

"Do _you_ want to go out there right now?" he teased quietly, his breath tickling her ear.

Anne shivered slightly and chuckled. "Nooo- I think we should give it a minute."

She tried to catch her breath, but his hand was holding her firmly, causing untold butterflies in that region. They stood silently for long minutes, and Gilbert's other hand had just joined the first when they heard the front door open and close again, and the sound of Phil's footsteps on the stairs. He let out a breath then, and released her.

Anne had not moved, and he came around to the front to see her standing perfectly still, with a peculiar look on her face.

"Come on. We still have some things to finish. And our tea might not be completely cold yet."

He tugged on her hand then, and she came to with an odd little sigh.

She crossed the room to sit back down on the sofa and turned to him sheepishly. "We probably just overreacted, Gilbert. There isn't really anything to get embarrassed about."

He raised one eyebrow as he dislodged Joseph from his seat. "Do you remember what it was like when he was reading that chapter from Ruth to her last Sunday when he was working on that sermon?"

Anne chuckled in remembrance. "It did get a little hot in here, I suppose."

"A little!" he scoffed. "It cleared the room if you remember correctly. You and I ran for the orchard."

The two of them laughed, and Anne looked at him gratefully. He was her dearest friend- and it was a little disconcerting to find that feeling increasing, rather than settling to a more comfortable normal. She was surprised to find they had been back at college for nearly two months now- never had two months gone so swiftly, or passed so enjoyably it seemed. She had told Phil she needed to sort herself out, however that too seemed to have been put on hold- and quite happily.

Strange.

All too soon, Gilbert was standing, and packing up his books once more. She came to his side and silently passed him his hat.

"Still getting used to the new look?" he teased, and Anne reached up to brush the short dark hair on the side of his head, and smiled into his twinkling eyes.

"I think you can do anything you like to that head of yours, Gilbert Blythe. But as long as I can see your eyes, I can tell that it's you."

He grinned at her. "Good." As she walked him to the door, he gave her hand a squeeze and winked at her, and walked out into the night.

Anne closed the door behind him meditatively. She walked to the sofa and flopped down with a sigh, her head on the arm of the chair and her feet on the chair in front of her. She looked up at the little low ceiling with a frown. It all seemed so _complicated_.

Surely she was happy now- _surely_ she was content with things being the way that they were again.

And yet when he had placed his hands on her that evening- she'd felt something so strange- that he somehow _belonged_ there. And she'd never actually noticed the strength in those hands before…

Gilbert had admitted that he had made a mistake back in that miserable orchard. What if she was now falling for the same error? Seeing things that weren't there, acting on feelings that were attached to a- well, _unique_ , but beautiful friendship. Surely it was enough to continue as they were. She put the cushion over her face and groaned- then pulled it away in confusion, realising that it still smelt like _him_.

Surely she, Anne Shirley, was finally, irrevocably…. going completely out of her mind.

Anne sat up suddenly and got down onto the floor, where her study notes were scattered. She pulled out a pen and paper and began to write. Page after page falling to the floor, covered in close, nearly illegible script.

* * *

A week later, the Avonlea autumn winds were blowing merrily, quickly drying the crisp white sheets on the clothes line. The trees were rapidly becoming barer, and Diana Wright was fighting a losing battle to keep her garden beds free of the falling leaves.

Diana carried in a load of washing to meet her husband, who had just arrived home from the post office. Fred took the load off her with a gentle kiss, and carried it to the table for her.

"Two letters for you, Di. I think one of them is from my aunt."

"The one who likes me, or the one who doesn't, dear?" Diana asked, cheeks dimpling.

Fred's face broke into a reluctant smile. "Aunt Thomasina."

Diana sighed. "Then that one can wait. Who is the other one from?"

Fred scratched his sunburnt neck, holding the letter up puzzled. "Well, it looks like it's from Anne, but the writing is terrible."

Di took the letter from him, promptly starting to laugh. "Indeed. You wouldn't know from that handwriting that she was a teacher. She must be very busy- oh, but it is thick." she said with a frown. She turned to Fred. "Would you mind if I left the washing until later? I'd like to read it while the light is still good."

"Go ahead. I still have to get the cows in."

Diana sat down a few minutes later in the little parlour with a cup of tea beside her, and opened the letter to the first page.

 _Dearest Diana,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. I am so excited to hear about your dear little chickens! I hope your preparations for winter are proceeding well, and that you will be able to tuck your little household up warm and tight when the cool weather hits. The leaves are almost gone from the trees in Kingsport, and we are striving to keep our fireplaces from going out. The price of wood is scandalous in the city!_

 _I don't quite know how to begin this, Di. We have always been able to talk openly, and you never made me feel silly for not knowing things. As we grew up, if you found out that I didn't know something you would simply tell me what I had missed- and with eleven years of interrupted childhood, you know that it often happened._

 _I didn't expect to be back in this place again as an adult. I'm back at Redmond and Patty's Place, and life is more beautiful than I had ever hoped it would be again. I think I've found a part of myself that has been lost for a long time- and yet I have also never been more mixed up and confused in my life. I know you won't laugh or make fun of me, and I really must tell someone something._

 _Di, something happened over the summer. It's- well, it's about Gilbert._

 _(several pages omitted…)_

 _I know it reads like something out of a dreadful novel. But you know what that storm was like Diana, although I assume you passed it much more comfortably in your own little home with Fred._

 _The only other person who knows about it is Gilbert's father, who is the soul of discretion. And although nothing changed that night- somehow_ _everything_ _did. I sent the letter to Roy the next morning, and somehow Gilbert decided to come back here. I honestly don't know how I survived the last year without him- outside of you Di, there is no one I trust more, or feel closer to._

 _In some ways it feels just like the old days, where it was Gilbert and I studying and working and talking together. And in other ways it feels as if some great shift has taken place, and I don't know how to find myself in it. Gilbert seems to handle it well enough- he is certainly the same incorrigible tease he ever was- but I find myself looking at him in confusion, trying to figure out why it all feels so different._

 _And it's so ridiculous, Diana. We went through hell and back last year, and somehow managed to recover, and find each other again. He seems content, and I can't figure out why I'm not- if I could guarantee nothing would change, I could happily live like this forever. However, I_ _know_ _\- I've seen how life can pull people apart so easily. And I can't ever let it happen to us again._

 _We do almost everything together- and I'm still missing him as soon as he has to go. It's ridiculous and selfish, his time doesn't belong to me- and he is so terribly busy the rest of the time. But I miss him, Di. He's here, he's my friend- we have a friendship again that the last-year-me would have given up anything for- and I'm still missing him._

 _And what is a thousand times more shameful, the jealousy- goodness, Di, I never thought I could be so silly. Gilbert has always had girls hovering, the sort that he doesn't care for- and I'm finding myself even feeling threatened about them! Is this just the result of a spectacularly painful year, Diana? Have I simply learned how to be terrified of loss? One or two of the girls certainly seem to resent my presence indeed; a certain Claire Hallett, who looks at me like I am a particularly nasty form of cholera, and the oh so beautiful Christine whom Gilbert was rumoured to be seeing. I really don't think she likes me._

 _And I know better than to be bothered- but yet it often times provokes me, and I have to stop myself from catering to the competition that they are determined exists. I do_ _not_ _want to be that girl!_

 _You see why I feel myself to be slightly crazed. I only hope that my exams don't reflect the state of chaos inside my mind right now. While I am glad that the ludicrous crying episodes have stopped, in all other ways I feel as precariously perched on the edge of hysteria as ever. Even Gilbert teases me about being highly strung. Not an uncommon occurrence in the senior year, however I feel it has little to do with academic life._

 _I can't really talk to anyone here about this. Phil and Priss and Stella don't know me as you do, and I certainly can't talk to Gilbert about it- although I do with anything else. I can't lose him again Di; I honestly don't think I would survive it. I'm so afraid of doing something foolish, of somehow ruining what we have again. I'm so afraid that I seem to see myself losing him constantly- which is completely ridiculous! If we could survive the pain and anger of the summer, surely our friendship is robust enough to survive college life._

 _Di, please tell me I'm not losing my mind- tell me that your poor old chum is merely having a temporary crisis that will somehow resolve itself in due course. Tell me that everything will go back to the way it was, and Anne will somehow become herself again._

 _I miss you so much Diana. I wish I could be close enough to visit you for tea on Sunday afternoons, to go on picnics in our beloved October woods again. We will be back for Christmas in just under two months though, so keep the home fires burning bright to light our way._

 _Love, Anne._


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Deep in the passages of the library at Redmond, Anne Shirley sat at a little table furiously taking notes. It was due to close soon, and she still had some information she needed for an essay she was working on. She was surprised to hear voices approaching her, and looked up to see Christine Stuart with another student coming into the arts wing of the library.

"Hard at work, I see." Christine said, coming to stand before her. Her friend had wandered into another section, and Christine took a seat on the other side of the ornately carved table. She sat back watching Anne with an amused smile on her face.

"You studious types are all the same. I wish I had your dedication and perseverance."

Anne put down her pencil and regarded the girl before her. "I don't know if I am that, Miss Stuart." she said with a slight smile. "And I have certainly heard much about your own talent and proficiency in musical circles."

Christine smiled. "And I'm sure I have heard a lot about you, as well. Charlie Sloane told me you were the top of your little schoolroom, and Queens as well. Quite the honour."

"Well, actually, I shared that honour." Anne said slowly.

The two women looked at each other for a moment. "Gilbert does think fairly highly of you." Christine stated, her eyes watchful. "I heard a lot about you then, as well. Is it true you broke a slate over his head?"

Unseen, Anne's fist clenched around her pencil. She made herself breathe. "Actually, I did. Gilbert was rather a tease back then. Naturally I haven't needed to do that to him in years."

She heard Christine laugh, and the sound grated on her ears like nails down a chalkboard. "So it _is_ true what they say about red-heads. I wondered if perhaps Gilbert exaggerated, in the wake of his recent _disappointment_." Violet eyes looked innocently into Anne's startled ones.

"You didn't know? And I thought you grew up together, dear. He assured me that his heart was quite broken by someone from his home town. Apparently an ungrateful girl who didn't know what was right in front of her." Anne's face had gone white, and she worked hard to keep still. Christine's voice continued sweetly. "She used him and then dropped him, when someone better came along. I was only glad to be able to give him someone to talk to, someone who could _understand_ him. He's really quite sensitive."

Anne had mastered her tongue by this point, and spoke in a coolly impersonal manner.

"It's fortunate you could be there for him then." she replied.

"Yes, it was." Christine said, in an insolent tone. "It was very _good_ for him to be with someone last year who could appreciate him, and who could make him smile again. And I flatter myself that he enjoyed the company, as well." She gave a slight girlish giggle that did not suit her.

"It is also _fortunate_ that your fiancé was so understanding to allow you to keep the company of so sensitive and desirable a young man." Anne added evenly.

At this the brunette looked at Anne sharply, evidently believing her engagement was relatively unknown. She swiftly manufactured a smile.

"Yes, Andrew is a darling to be so understanding. And he did get a _little_ squiffy when he saw how handsome my best escort was- indeed, if Andrew perhaps wasn't around, who _knows_ what could happen."

Anne didn't miss the present tense, and her fist shut so tight that she felt the little pencil snap in her palm. Christine smiled malevolently, knowing her point had made it home.

"I'd better be going dear; I rather think Matilda has completed her research. I'll no doubt I'll see you around, Anne." She rose then, and pushed the silky chestnut curls from her face, and turned to walk out of the room.

In her wake she left a white-faced girl, holding the remnants of the shattered pencil, a small scratch on her palm where the wood had pierced it.

* * *

Gilbert walked calmly along Spofford Avenue that evening. He looked at the bare trees with a slight smile, musing that winter was really only a short time away now. And a winter curled up in front of the fire with his girl…. Now that was something to live for.

He knocked at the door of Patty's place, expecting Anne to be ready to go out to the college debate club as they had planned.

Phil met him at the door with a look of chagrin.

"Err- Gilbert, Anne's not really in the best frame of mind, she may not quite be up for the club tonight. Did you want to talk to her?"

Gilbert looked at her, bewildered. "She was fine when I last saw her, what happened?"

Phil scowled. "Christine Stuart happened, Gilbert. I thought you said you told her how things stood."

He defended himself. "I did."

"Well, it seems Anne had a run in with Christine this afternoon, and she's a little- out of sorts." She looked at him, her face telling that it was an understatement.

"Oh, lord," Gilbert said, with a groan. "Alright, where is she?"

"Last I saw her, she took a coat and said she needed to climb a tree. Does that mean something in particular to you islanders?" Phil asked, confused. To her surprise, Gilbert laughed.

"It means she's going to climb a tree." he said, shrugging on his own winter coat again. "I might do the same."

"Good _grief_. I truly hope you marry her, Gilbert." Phil said crossly. "The pair of you are as crazy as each other."

Gilbert walked out the side doors, and headed out into the little orchard behind the house, a slight smile on his face. She'd only just commented that she wanted to climb the old apple tree in the corner of the property the other night, so he hoped that she hadn't ventured any further out this time.

As he neared the big old tree in the darkness, an apple suddenly fell at his feet.

He put up his hands, looking up into the branches. "Don't shoot."

"I didn't. I just bumped the branch."

"Alright. So how do I get up there?" he asked.

"You're coming up?" her voice said dubiously.

"Unless you think a Blythe isn't up to the challenge of an apple tree."

She fought a smile back, and even in the darkness she could see his eyes twinkling up at her from the grass. She watched him test the lower branches, eventually finding a way up to her. He sat on the sturdiest branch he could find, and settled against the trunk, his arm brushing hers. She gave a little sigh.

"I'm sorry about the debate club."

"Hey, I'm more concerned about _you_." he said, nudging her with an elbow. When she remained silent, he continued. "A little birdie told me that you had a chat with Miss Stuart." Gilbert said mildly.

"The little birdie has a great big mouth."

Gilbert pulled her hand from her lap, wrapping his warm fingers around hers. "Come on, you can tell me anything. Why not this?"

Anne sighed. "Because it's not your problem to deal with."

"Well, who says it's yours?" Gilbert said with a frown.

Anne swiveled her head to look at him. "What?"

Gilbert squeezed her hand. "You can't take on other people's issues, Anne. Was it really about you?"

Anne turned to him then, in exasperation. "Actually, yes it was, Gilbert. I got to hear all about how badly I treated you. From _her_. I got to hear her tell me how she had comforted you at your lowest, all because 'some girl from back at home' was stupid enough to hurt you- and she _knew_ it was me. And all the little insinuations about you- just- _auugh_!" she finally yelled in frustration. To her surprise, Gilbert laughed.

"Why would you let her bother you, Anne?"

"Gilbert, I warn you, I'm not adverse to the idea of pushing someone out of this tree right now." she said crossly. "Look, I know that she is not overly fond of me. I would also guess she has heard the plentiful gossip, and is wanting me to keep my distance from you. But hearing all of my follies, all of my worst moments coming from that perfect smiling face of hers made me so _angry_ that I thought I would fly into pieces if I saw her. So I chose to climb a tree instead embarrassing you at the debate."

Gilbert was surprised. "So you didn't actually believe what she said then."

She sighed again. "Only about myself. No, I know you better than that. And I would guess it was Charlie who told her everything. She even knew about the slate."

"Good old Charlie." Gilbert precariously pulled an arm around her then, sighing in relief. "I thought you might be angry at me for whatever it was that she said."

She looked at him sideways. "After everything we've been through Gil, I really _do_ know you. And I hazard a guess that I know you better than Miss Stuart does." she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. She was silent then for a moment. "That was uncalled for. I know she is your friend, regardless of how I feel about her. I should just be grateful you are still in my life, without trying to remove other people who were there for you when I wasn't." she said flatly.

Gilbert looked at her, a small smile on his face again. "Hey. I'm up a tree with _you_ , aren't I? _You're_ my priority. And Christine _is_ removed from my life. That was a season, and a pretty terrible one at that. I'm right where I want to be."

"You don't miss her then?" Anne asked, tentatively, and Gilbert laughed.

"What, being trotted out like a show pony at every event, and being told to dress better?" he joked.

"How rude!" Anne said indignantly. "You dress very nicely."

"Thank you." He shifted a little on the branch. "Look, what do you say we climb down from here and find somewhere warmer to sit?" he asked her practically. "I know a little restaurant near the school that does a good cup of tea when the dinner hour is finished. How does that sound?"

Anne chuckled. "It sounds lovely. However, I didn't actually think about how to get _down_ , so it might take me a little while."

Gilbert was able to climb down nimbly, and with much laughter and protesting from Anne, she at last dropped into his waiting arms. He didn't release her at once, and she shook the hair out of her face laughing as he put her feet on the ground. He bent his head and lightly kissed her on the cheek, surprising Anne completely.

"What was that for?" she whispered.

He smiled at her. "For believing me instead of her." He stepped back and took her hand. "Come on. Tree climbers need their tea. Did you want to ask the others to come?"

Anne kept her eyes down, but she still answered him. "Could it just be the two of us?" she asked after a moment. The smile that blossomed on his face was huge, and it was with an effort that he held back from crushing her into his arms.

"Anything for you." he said with a cheeky grin.

* * *

Several days later, Gilbert could be found running laps on the oval. The football season was over for the year, and he had found it necessary to continue his regular workout on his own. A twisted smile crossed his face, when he thought about the _why_ of that.

Anne was- she was everything he was dreaming of. She was back in his life; talking with him, laughing and sharing dreams with him. And better than the friendship he prized so much- she was not only letting him hold her hand and show his affection- she was reaching for _him_! Hence the workout, he thought with a slight groan. Trying to keep himself from doing anything inappropriate, trying not to run his fingers through that glorious hair, not to kiss her before she was ready. Besides, he had a _plan_. Every time he was tempted to jump in, every time he thought about holding more than her hand he would remind himself of that.

And then run for a really, _really_ long time.

The Hannerford Ball was in a fortnight's time now. It would be the first official outing they had attended together in years, despite the many times he could be found in her living room lately, or walking with her through the streets of Kingsport. He thought back to the days before he had proposed; where he had thought himself lucky to see her alone, lucky if she would dance with him once at social events. Now of course, he could be a little more confident.

He slowed his pace to a walk on the misty field. Looking back on the young man he had been, he sighed. Poor, headstrong, heart-broken idiot. Wanting her so much, but not being able to read her- so afraid everything was about to be taken from him- and of course it had happened anyway.

Still, today was a new day. He looked out into the stands, and stumbled slightly, as he saw what was unmistakably _her_. He looked down at his clothing with a slight grin. Not exactly formal attire, however surely she wouldn't care. He jogged over to the stands, where she and Priscilla were standing, talking.

Anne looked up at him with a ready smile.

"Charlie said we might find you here. Priss and Phil have an request to make of you." He watched her eyes flicker to his short sleeved shirt, and permitted himself a small grin. He folded his arms- perhaps because he knew she was watching his muscles flex- and asked Priscilla what he could do. As she outlined her plan, he caught Anne's eye and winked at her. She blushed then, and he found himself wondering what she was thinking. He politely turned back to Priss, to give her his full attention- or whatever he could manage to spare from the woman beside him.

He walked them back to the edge of the college grounds, promising to be on hand the next evening. As they turned to go he locked eyes with Anne, who was still slightly pink. He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Come now, Miss Shirley. You remembered I had knees and elbows, didn't you?"

When he stepped back he saw with a grin that he had completely surprised Anne, and he watched her fumble around for something to say. Taking pity on her, he told her he would see her the following evening, and took off at a run for the locker rooms in the old gymnasium.

Anne had to be coaxed along by a bewildered Priscilla, who simply couldn't believe what it took to take the voice from the irrepressible Anne Shirley.

* * *

Phil and Priscilla were busy readying the living room for the guests the next evening. Phil had suggested a small reception for some of Jo's visiting theological classmates, who were in Kingsport for a meeting. He hadn't felt up to attempting anything on his own, and Phil and Priscilla had come through wonderfully.

Priscilla had been slightly dubious about the group of serious young men coming to the little house. Her own father was a minister, and she said she knew well the sort person who would be coming- shy, morose and dull. While she worked at making their small budget cover the extra food, she had suggested that Gilbert and Moody be included in the invitation- Gilbert who could talk to anyone, and Moody as a hopeful minister in training.

Charlie had been included when no one could come up with a reason for him _not_ being invited when the others _were,_ and had announced that of course he would bring his _dear_ Nicole- since he had little opportunity to display her to the good people he had grown up with. Not to mention rubbing Blythe's nose in the fact that _he_ had a girlfriend when Gilbert _didn't_.

Stella had looked things not lawful, and was roundly scolded by an Aunt Jimsie who was taken with the honour of hosting the junior reverends. Grumbling about the perniciousness of the Sloanes, even in Kingsport, was just being hard to please under the circumstances.

Stella was completing the arrangements in the kitchen, and came out to look for some help from Anne, who was putting the finishing touch on some flowers on the mantelpiece.

"Please come and put those delicate fingers to use in the kitchen Anne, I'm sure the sandwiches can use a bit of arranging too."

Anne laughed, and followed her back in.

"So Gilbert is coming tonight?"

Anne nodded. "He and Moody will be along soon, and Charlie will be here later when he and Dear Nicole are ready."

Stella chuckled. "Oooh, Anne, that sentence smacks of romantic disappointment." Anne flicked a small piece of parsley at the errant chef.

"Hardly. Although that seems to be Charlie's belief, he asked me quite kindly if we could let bygones be bygones, and that he _hoped_ I wouldn't feel too threatened by _Dear Nicole's_ many proficiencies. I hope to find that the dear lady is a delightful soul, although I do wonder what she makes of his tendency to self-congratulate." Anne said, making Stella laugh.

Just then the doorbell sounded and all four girls flew to answer it, resulting in quite the confusion at the door.

"Oh. It's just Gilbert." Phil said with a sigh, and the crowd thinned, leaving Anne to greet him.

"Only me? Anne, I'm hurt." he said with grin, when it was just the two of them.

Anne laughed. "You see that familiarity breeds contempt, Mr Blythe."

He leaned on the door frame, a smile on his handsome face. "I hope that doesn't include you."

She looked indignant. "Certainly not." He then disarmed her by producing a sunny bunch of goldenrod from behind him, and her eyes lit up at the pretty yellow sprays.

"Gil, these are so lovely! The vase is rather full down here; would you mind if I used them to brighten my blue room?"

Gilbert's smile was huge, and he shook his head, trying hard to not picture himself in that room… Hmm. Perhaps today's run wasn't quite long enough.

An hour later, almost every surface in the little house was covered. Jo's friends were likeable, intelligent fellows, and the conversation flowed easily. Watching from near the staircase, Gilbert nudged Anne, and pointed at Priscilla talking animatedly with one of the young missionaries about his travels. Anne raised her eyebrows and grinned back at him.

Gilbert looked around him restlessly. They had drifted away from the group, and he thought longingly of finding some peace and quiet. A sudden thought popped into his mind. He took Anne's hand, and gestured up the stairs to the little landing, and its window seat framed with heavy curtains. She took the hint and when no one was looking, they crept up the stairs and Gilbert pulled the thick curtains closed around them.

Anne looked startled at the sudden privacy, but soon relaxed when Gilbert made himself comfortable on one side of the seat with a sigh.

"Too much company for you?" she asked with a chuckle.

He nodded. "It's just nice to have a rest from all the chatter."

"And you chose _me_ to accompany you!" Anne exclaimed, with a sly grin. "Should I leave you to it then?"

He merely smiled and reached for her hand, as he seemed to have been doing a lot lately. She sighed and sat back against the window seat herself. The darkness outside was complete, and the cosy little space between the glass and curtain was warm and intimate.

"You're tired again." Anne said softly, watching him.

"Stop nagging, I'm sleeping fine." he said, the smile showing on his contented face. "I just had early lectures this week, and a meeting with the Dean before I came here."

Anne sat up. "Oh? And?"

"They _are_ offering the Cooper prize." He looked at her, knowing she understood what that meant. "It's- it's going to be a lot of work."

"It's worth it." she said, her eyes bright.

"And I have to get the highest marks across the board-" he said slowly.

"You can do it, I'll help you all I can-"

"And I'll have to drop a lot of social things to get it done."

"Oh, because you loved them so much anyway." She teased him.

And I might have to drop back to only visiting you four times a week." he said with a mock sigh, and was rewarded with a light slap on the arm.

"You drop back to whatever you need to do to make this happen, Gil. Medical school is worth it. I promise I'm not going anywhere." she said firmly.

The silence between them suddenly seemed to intensify, and her eyes held Gilbert's. He held her hand tighter in both of his, and opened his mouth to say something. It was then that he saw her eyes, showing the slightest hint of vulnerability in them, the tiniest bit of fear. He drew back a little, smiling when he thought he saw a look of disappointment in them as well. Oh, he felt it himself. But it was alright- there was a plan. He raised her hand to his lips again, and grinned at her.

"Come on, you'd miss me if I stayed away too much."

"I would." she said honestly. She frowned then. "Gilbert, did you happen to have an exit strategy in mind for us?"

"Meaning?"

"Meaning the two of us creeping downstairs _together_ ; in front of several members of the clergy and Aunt Jimsie, our friends and lastly an ambassador of the house of Sloane? Is there a way for us to do that without incurring greater scandal on heads that only narrowly escaped a possible schoolhouse tempest?" Anne asked drolly.

Gilbert's face fell. "Oh. I didn't think about that."

The two of them began to laugh, and he only held her hand a little tighter and shrugged. "Well, I guess we'll just have to outstay everyone right here then, won't we?"

And that was what they did.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

In early November the students turned their mind towards looming exams. On the Tuesday before they were scheduled to begin, Gilbert settled himself in front of the fire with his books to wait for Anne. She came down the stairs presently, her face looking happy and untroubled. She dropped onto the little sofa beside him with a sigh.

"You know, you're the first person I've seen all evening who's still smiling."

Anne chuckled. "Is Charlie still out of sorts?"

"He is. He's taking exception to the desk, the lamp, and the woeful lack of adequate teaching at Redmond." Gilbert said with a grin. "And then he had an argument with Dear Nicole about when the History essay is due and it turns out he was _wrong_ , so now he is cross at her about that."

She smiled. "Is it the nature of fourth-year students?" she asked thoughtfully. "Perhaps the psychology department should study of that, instead of Freud's personality theory."

Gilbert laughed. "Nothing can explain Charlie away, I'm afraid. What's going on here?"

Anne put her things down beside the lounge and stretched out, her tired gaze on the fireplace. "Oh, Stella and I were upstairs reading some old Story Club stories for a laugh- we needed one after the Philosophy paper today. Priss is trying to sort through chemistry notes since one of the cats got into them and made a nest this morning; and Phil is raiding the kitchen again- apparently studying makes her hungry. Aunt Jimsie grew tired of the drama and went to bed with a book." she said with a laugh.

"Why would you never let me read any of those stories? You let me read Averil," he complained.

Anne's face flushed, thinking of some of the stories that she had just read- including some she hadn't even showed to Stella. "You really don't want to know what thirteen-year-old girls daydream about, Gil."

Gilbert looked across at her with a grin. "You mean dark, melancholy, inscrutable men?"

Anne hid her face with a groan. "Some of them. We all had some fairly lurid imaginations back then. And almost everyone died in them." This last made Gilbert laugh. Anne looked up at him, smiling. It was so easy to make him laugh. She suddenly recalled one hero that she created but never showed to anyone- when she realised his eyes were the very image of the angry ones that had stormed away from her when Gilbert had rescued her from the pond. The manuscript for _that_ one had stayed carefully hidden out of sight.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry Gilbert, they aren't for your eyes," she said lightly. "You are far too innocent to be corrupted by such wild imaginations."

He grinned at her, amused.

"I might surprise you, Miss Shirley," he said, holding her gaze until he saw her blush confusedly.

Eventually, their work was pulled out, and no sound was heard for a time but the scratching of their pens. As the girls came and went Anne and Gilbert worked steadily, stopping at about nine for tea as was their custom. Gilbert went to help Priscilla sort out her notes, comparing them with his own for clarity.

Phil and Priss were the first to give up and go to bed, and Gilbert was surprised to find Anne had already fallen asleep on the sofa. Her face was resting on the arm of her chair, and Gilbert put down his book to watch her. Hesitantly he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, smiling when she sighed a little in her sleep. Growing bolder, he pushed the hair back from her forehead and ran his fingers through the loose red curls. She was- she was just sweet, he thought, with a sigh. He sat there for some time, his book in one hand, and idly stroking his fingers through her hair.

Stella came to sit opposite him silently, and he looked at her in surprise. There was a knowing smile on her face, and dark eyes twinkled at him. He smiled at her a little guiltily. He had never gotten to know her the same way he had Phil or Priss; Stella was a little more guarded than the others. So it was with great surprise that he heard her speak quietly.

"You love her, Gilbert."

Gilbert's eyes flew to Anne, trying to figure out if she could hear anything.

"Don't worry, Anne's quite a deep sleeper when she finally _goes_ to sleep," Stella said serenely. "I wouldn't normally share such personal information, but we do trust you. And I know she does as well."

He looked back at her with a sigh and nodded. "I always did," he said softly.

Stella smiled. "Just hang in there."

He looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

She chuckled. "You know exactly what I mean. I can see it written all over the pair of you. She's just- working it out for herself."

"If she only says yes in the end, I don't care how long it takes."

Stella stood and yawned. "I understand. I think I'll head upstairs too. Mind you behave like a gentleman, Gilbert. You wouldn't get this level of trust back home, I think." she said cheekily, earning a scowl from him. She went upstairs with a wave, and Gilbert stayed beside Anne, looking into the fire, his hand still on her soft hair.

Half an hour later, Anne woke to hear a gentle snore coming from beside her. Pushing off the sofa with a groan, she moved and felt something on the back of her head move. It was with great surprise that she recognised Gilbert in the chair beside her, also waking up.

"Well. This isn't home," he said, with a hint of laughter in his voice. She chuckled too, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"Where is everyone else?" Anne asked, puzzled.

"Stella went upstairs a little while ago. You'd better head that way yourself, Miss Shirley."

"And what about you?" she countered, with a sigh. "What is it about you and I, and poor places to go to sleep?" she mused, with a sleepy grin. Neither of them wanted to move, to break a moment that felt so natural. He brushed his fingers one last time through her unruly curls, and with a sigh slowly rose to his feet.

Anne walked him to the door, shivering slightly at the cool wind coming through.

"You'd better run home yourself. It's getting quite cold now," she said, and then suddenly sneezed, making Gilbert laugh.

"You're the one who needs to get out of the cold, I think. Actually, you look a bit flushed- Anne, are you alright?" he touched her cheek lightly. "You don't _usually_ fall asleep on me." He teased.

"Oh, fine. Just a little sore throat," she said, and grinned at him. "Go on then, get home before Mrs Saunders gets worried."

* * *

By the next day, Anne was coughing and sneezing, and barred from leaving her room by Aunt Jimsie. In vain Anne protested that she had exams the following week and couldn't miss the lectures, however Jimsie was inexorable.

Priscilla arrived home in the afternoon, bringing with her a large stack of papers, that she promptly dumped on Anne's bed.

"And that's just today's notes, dear." she said wryly. "How are you feeling?"

The coughing that followed did not sound particularly promising, and Anne's eyes watered while she tried to answer her.

"Fine," she replied indistinctly. "Should be able to go to lectures tomorrow."

Aunt Jimsie came bustling in, with a fresh pot of tea.

"Oh no you don't, missy." she said crossly. "You aren't leaving that bed until I say so. I don't know what the world is coming to. I told you that I wasn't going to nursemaid you all, and here you are causing all sorts of trouble." Anne chuckled, knowing how much she really loved them. Her brisk manner even reminded her of Marilla at times.

"But Aunt Jimsie, I'm fine." Anne pleaded, reaching for the stack of fresh handkerchiefs beside her bed. "I need to see Professor Torbin about an essay." The storm of coughs following this made the older woman raise her eyebrows at her. Anne sighed in defeat.

"I'll see him tomorrow; I'll ask him what you need to do." Priscilla said, anxious to get Anne to stop talking. Anne smiled her thanks and lay back on her pillows with a groan. Jimsie closed the curtains, informing Anne that she needed sleep, the other girls could visit with her later. When the door to the little blue room closed Anne disobeyed orders completely, and got out of bed to look out on the pine trees. The eerie sound of the wind in the pines seemed to cut through her now, and she shivered. The cold weather had truly begun, and it was with relief that she pulled the curtains and returned to her warm bed, and crawled under the covers again.

For the next two days Anne stayed in bed. She worked on the materials sent home to her, read a little and slept. By Friday evening Anne had mostly lost her voice, and was condemned to stay in bed for yet another day if she wanted a hope of attending her exams the following Monday. She sighed, feeling a little bit blue. She hadn't seen Gilbert since Tuesday- the longest she had gone without him since they had rekindled their friendship. She really _had_ to get better soon- she was just about going out of her mind…

* * *

Gilbert was scarcely any better. She'd been away from college, and Phil had told him not to bother coming over. By Friday afternoon he was at the end of his tether, his imagination working overtime. What if something happened to her? What if, God forbid, she _didn't_ get better? What if he never got the chance to tell her how he felt? He badgered Phil so much in class that she finally snapped.

"She is _fine._ And don't ask _how_ fine, she is simply fine," she said crossly. "Alright, Gilbert; come to the house tonight. Hopefully, Jimsie will let her come down- and you will see that nothing ails her but a cold. A thoroughly uncomplicated,  UN-dangerous run-of-the-mill cold that anyone could pick up if they spent as much time outside as she does."

"Getting cold doesn't give you a cold, Phil." he said, rolling his eyes.

Phil fixed him with her eye ferociously. " _You're_ studying germ theory, Gilbert, not me. Now for pity's sake, let me take down the notes I need for the exam, and I promise you will get to see the dripping, sneezing cough that is currently the woman that you love."

He couldn't hide the triumphant grin on his face, and she shook her head at him, before turning back to watch the quadratic equation fill the board before them.

Anne awoke from a small sleep that evening at a gentle tap on the door.

"Honey, are you presentable?"

"For what exactly?" Anne rasped, her voice suspicious.

"For someone to come and say hello."

Phil opened the door gingerly to see Anne sitting up in bed, and quickly came in and shut the door. She took Anne's pink robe from the door of her cupboard, and told her to put it on as Anne looked at her bewildered.

"There, that's better," Phil said, giving Anne's cheeks a little pinch.

"This is _not_ -" (cough) " _called_ for, Phil." Anne pleaded. "It's really not necessary."

"Oh, but it _is_. For all of our sakes."

She grinned at the confused girl and opened the door to see an awkward Gilbert standing there, his hat in one hand. Anne looked at Phil, her face indicating her dismay.

"I've snuck him up here so he can see that you aren't dying, Anne. Aunt Jimsie is out to tea, so she won't kick up a fuss about it, and Stella is studying just next door to keep an eye on you both. After all, we must make sure the proprieties are observed." She grinned wickedly at the pair of them. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must go back down to Jonas again." She swept down the little staircase again, leaving the two of them alone.

"And you thought we were courting a scandal before," Gilbert said teasingly. Anne chuckled, embarrassed. She tucked her unruly hair behind one ear, wishing she had taken the time to brush it. Gilbert looked around the little room for a moment, before sitting himself on the braided mat in front of her closet.

"So you really do just have a cold." he commented.

"What did you expect, typhoid?" Anne queried, in between coughs.

Gilbert grinned at her, deciding _not_ to tell her the worst of his fears.

"I needed to see if you were alright. You're meant to be accompanying me in society next Saturday, remember."

Anne sighed. "I'll be fine by then, I'm sure. I just hope I make it to the exams next week."

"You will."

She reached out to get another handkerchief, and Gilbert shuffled a little closer to hold it out for her. White with her initials, in green embroidery. He smiled to himself.

"I didn't expect to see you in pink, ever."

Anne's face and nose were already red, so he couldn't quite see how deeply she was blushing. "Well, no one else is meant to _see_ this, so why shouldn't it be pink?" she said in a husky voice, trying to clear her throat a little.

"I think it looks nice." he said with a shrug, making her laugh a little.

"And this is why men don't get to pick colours, Gilbert. It clashes with my hair horribly."

"You're not wearing pink to the ball?" he teased.

"Emerald green taffeta, if you must know," she said with a shrug, wiping her nose with a wince. Gilbert watched her, his eyes sympathetic.

"It hurts?"

"A little."

Gilbert stretched long legs out across the floorboards. "Well, I won't keep you for long, I just wanted to check up on you. I miss hearing you chattering away to me."

Anne's eyes narrowed. "Careful, or you can find someone else to chatter to you, Gilbert."

He laughed. "You know you would hate that as much as anyone. Not that Christine didn't try today."

Anne sat up, her eyes suspicious. "Oh? Really?"

He looked at her, smiling wryly. "She was in a talkative mood, it seems. She said that she was _concerned_ that you hadn't been in class this week."

"How would she even know?"

"She overheard Phil and I talking. She seemed quite worried your health." Gilbert said carefully.

Anne looked as contemptuous as she could with a stuffy nose, and he gave a short laugh. "Yes, that was Phil's reaction." The smile left his face then, and he looked at her in regret.

"Anne, I'm sorry."

She frowned at him, sniffling. "For what?"

"For being the reason she is focusing attention on you."

Anne looked at him, her face surprised. "It's really not your fault, Gil."

He laughed, but the sound was pained. "Actually, I think it is. I was such a mess last year, and- I think I didn't judge her character very well. She's probably always been like that." He said flatly.

Anne raised her hands to pull her loose hair over one shoulder. "She probably has," she said quietly. "But she wouldn't have behaved like this around you, would she?" Gilbert looked at her, confused.

"Christine would have been fairly careful to not show that side around you. And sadly, that side is a part of the real her." Anne said with a sigh. "And it's about territory, Gilbert."

"But she was _engaged_." he said, confused. "I wasn't hers. She knew that; _I_ knew that."

At this juncture, Stella poked her through the open door and grinned at the pair. "Don't mind me, just keeping my word to Phil." At this she withdrew, and Gilbert chuckled. After a coughing fit that took her breath for a moment, Anne sipped the water from beside her and continued, her voice hoarse.

"Gilbert, you are a very intelligent man, however, there were some things you simply didn't see," she said pragmatically. "Engaged or not, in her mind you were her property."

"That's ridiculous," he said, with a frown. "She couldn't possibly think like that."

Anne merely looked back at him, and Gilbert let out a deep breath when he saw she was serious. "Oh. I- I didn't see that."

"I know."

He shook his head, unbelievingly. "Are you _sure_?" he asked.

"Yes," Anne said simply.

Gilbert sat back in shock. "Where was all your wisdom a year ago?" he said in jest, and then was aghast when her face suddenly crumpled into tears. Stricken, he moved closer and took her hand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," he whispered. "Forget I said that, Anne."

"But it's true," she choked bitterly. "It _was_ my fault. She wouldn't have been there if I hadn't hurt you. This whole mess is my fault." She curled up in her pillow then as she cried, and he knelt beside her awkwardly.

"Come on now, we said we weren't going to do this anymore," he said, pleading. "We forgave each other; it's over and we're fine. Nothing anyone can say will change that. And I really don't want to start all the shouting again."

This made her laugh in the midst of her tears, and after a minute she sat up to take another handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes, and Gilbert put his hand on hers to get her attention.

"I'm sorry." he said earnestly.

"I'm sorry too, Gil. Just-" Anne stopped, a reluctant smile on her face. "If you happen to come across anyone like that again, please just ask for a woman's opinion first. We can read it better than you can." She sneezed then, breaking the tension effectively.

He grinned, sitting back on his heels. "I really don't see it being a problem ever again."

Phil bounced around the door at that moment and sat herself on the end of Anne's bed. "Jo had to leave early, so I thought I should get back to my job as a respectable chaperone."

Gilbert looked at Anne, who was rubbing her eyes blearily.

"Actually, I think Anne needs to get some sleep. And your humble servant needs to catch up on some notes from today; Phil was _very_ distracting when I was trying to pay attention to the algebraic formula."

He stood up laughing, dodging the cushion that Phil threw at him. She waited for him in the doorway, and he bent over to take Anne's hand.

"Are we alright?" he asked her quietly.

She nodded, giving his hand a little squeeze back.

"Good. I'll see if you're up and about tomorrow afternoon." he grinned. "Sleep well."

"Go to sleep like a good girl, and then I won't tell Jimsie anything," Phil said warningly. "In a little while I'll bring up some tea for you. Oh, and I nearly forgot."

Gilbert turned around to see Phil pull something from her pocket.

"Stella brought the mail home just now. You've got a letter from Diana."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 _Dearest Anne,_

 _I'm sorry I couldn't respond quicker to your lovely long letter (more like that, if you please, I hate to find out all your news from Mrs Lynde) however we had a bit of a surprise in the time since I got it- I can't keep it from you darling, Fred and I are soon to become parents! Our own little precious one. We are terribly excited, and our families are ecstatic! Mrs Wright has been lecturing me all week on adequate diet, saying to me she is sure it is to be to be a strapping big boy like his father and needs the nourishment; my mother says she knows it is a little girl, and is cautioning me about maintaining a ladylike figure while 'in the family way'. Well, at least they can't both be right. Fred's father merely laughed and congratulated Fred (as if he was the one who would carry the infant) while my father turned pale and took himself out to the barn for a nip of something he pretends he doesn't keep out there under the hay bales._

 _Goodness, Anne, can you_ _imagine_ _me as a mother? I do feel quite nervous, (as well as a little nauseous) I haven't had the experience with babies that you have. Mother never knew this, but I dropped Minnie May several times, and she_ _certainly_ _knows that I complained about her noise from the beginning. Minnie May was a dreadful baby. However, Fred is an angel, so let us hope that our little one does take after him- the Barrys are not so saintly. Of course you will be Aunt Anne, Fred agrees with me- although I don't suppose it would matter much if he didn't, that was always our plan, wasn't it, dearest?_

 _I do wish I could come to Kingsport and visit you, to see your beautiful Patty's Place, to see Priscilla and Stella again, and to meet the incorrigible Philippa. I do admit to_ _more_ _curiosity however, in seeing you and Gilbert together again._

 _You always helped me too, Anne. There was so much in life I didn't see until you pointed it out to me- you know that this was never a one sided oath of friendship that we swore to each other. And I promised myself that I wouldn't ever let any distance come between us- that we would always be here for each other. I will admit to feeling some jealousy myself that the other girls get to see you so much, and me so little, and that they are involved in your everyday life in a way I can't be._

 _I'm so glad that you know you can talk to me about anything- and oh my dear, what an_ _anything_ _it was! Anne Shirley, how on earth did you keep that a secret from everyone all this time? I can't believe you and Gilbert were less than a mile from us, and going through all of that. (As you surmised, we passed the storm fairly easily- or at least until we discovered the leak over our bed, anyway. Between you and I, that kills passion faster than you would believe.) But you two- oh, Anne, my poor darling._

 _I confess it took me by surprise to hear how difficult your last year had been. You never gave a hint in your letters- although I wonder if you really saw it yourself at the time. As for Gilbert, I knew a little more. And it makes perfect sense- the two of you were always close, there were many times when I felt jealous of how close your friendship was with him. (So you see, you aren't the only one who feels that!) And as glad as I am that you have come back together again- and I couldn't be happier about that- I do wonder if there was another reason that you needed to talk to me about it._

 _You may have thought I would be too busy to notice, but at the wedding I saw you more alive than I have seen you in a long while. Gilbert, too. It was just like the old days, and it made me so happy to have you both there with us. And Anne, I wonder if there is something that you haven't seen- something that holds the two of you together, and hurts you both whenever you have been apart._

 _I won't try to make up your mind for you, and I won't try and convince you that you feel something that you don't- but please hear me out, darling._

 _Anne, I think you love Gilbert._

 _I know you've always been so sure that you didn't, and I thought if you_ _were_ _surely you would notice, however the line between friendship and love for the two of you has always been a very blurry one. When you became friends I was surprised at how swift the change was- one moment you were enemies, the next you were- well, the two of you. You did everything together, and you enjoyed being together so much. You could see it written all over you both. I've never seen another boy and girl interact the way the two of you do, and I couldn't figure out if it was a result of your intelligence, your temperaments, or just the many things you had in common that made it so._

 _Later, when you never mentioned it, I wondered if perhaps other people's expectations (and I know they were enormous) were frightening to you- or even if Gilbert's feelings scared you. All of Avonlea could see how much he cared for you, even back then. And I think perhaps your time in the schoolhouse was needed to show the two of you what you both have together- how necessary you are to each other._

 _I think that the fear you have is because you really_ _can't_ _see a life without him. And it may look like a wonderful companionship, but maybe you haven't seen what is so obvious to everyone else- he completes you in a way that no one else can. Of course Roy wasn't right for you, because there was Gilbert._

 _I know this may sound overwhelming, and Anne, I am so afraid you will dismiss this before giving me a proper hearing- but if you can, please imagine I'm there to hold your hand like you did mine before the wedding. I don't think I was able to explain in words how afraid I was at that moment. You helped me, and now I want to help you all I can._

 _Dearest, if I can be so bold, I think you need to let yourself fall in love with Gilbert Blythe. Maybe it's something you have been fighting ever since you met him, broken slate and all. The two of you are right together in a way that utterly confounds the rest of the world- and you know, none of us girls had a chance with Gilbert as soon as he saw those grey-green eyes of yours._

 _I can see why you might think that Gilbert is content with how things are- he has missed you so desperately, to have you back is itself a tremendous blessing. But if you are afraid that it stops there, you are so wonderfully mistaken. I believe he loves you as he has loved no one else._

 _I want your happiness- and I want Gilbert's too. And if you are truly content the way you are, I won't say another word about it. But I believe with all my heart that you love him, and that you may just need a little push to realise it. I hope I can give you that now. And I think if you can begin to open your heart up to the possibility, that you will find that you have loved him all along._

 _Please, please don't be angry with me for saying all of this. I am not sure if anyone else knows you well enough to say what I can, and I won't take that chance with your happiness. Anne, you are so gifted in being able to see so many wonderful things in life that most people miss, and you use your pen to describe them for the world- but perhaps you have had a little blind spot in the place that Gilbert has always occupied- and for good reason, he is the very closest person to you. Even back when you were teaching, I think I knew that._

 _Please just take some time to think about it. I'm not saying to rush into anything- just allow it some space in your heart. You once told me that the human heart does know what it wants, even if we remain in doubt of it a little longer. I think you were as wise in that comment as anything else you have ever said to me, and I'm sure in time your heart will be able to tell you what you need to know too._

 _I should probably close this letter for now, I have to be getting the dinner on soon. It sometimes still surprises me that it has to happen once a day- and men really are so hungry all the time! Goodness, that was a shock to the system…_

 _Write to me soon Anne, and please forgive your old bosom friend for interfering. I love you so much, and I can't bear the idea of you missing this simply because I lacked the courage to bring it up. I know the answer will show itself at the right time._

 _My fire will of course be stoked high, and I will have your favourite cookies on hand ready for Christmas. Give our love to Gilbert, I hope we get to see you both over the holidays._

 _Love always, Diana._


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

 _ **The First Night**_

In the middle of the night, a shape tiptoed down old carpeted stairs silently. It stepped with sureness around little tables filled with bric-a-brac, navigating the comfortable chairs placed haphazardly about. The shape moved to the fireplace and quietly added another log to the slumbering embers. A small sigh was heard, and it moved to a certain chair on the right, a squashy little armchair that it flopped into moodily.

In the dull light the shape lifted a sheaf of papers to peruse, brow lowered. The pages were turned one by one, and then tucked away in impatience, arms crossed defiantly. Then a few minutes would pass, when there was no movement or sound, only the tumultuous grey eyes staring into the flames, now beginning to leap higher in the fireplace. Twice more this process was repeated.

The figure then stood, dropping the pages resolutely, and turned to go back up the stairs. It moved out of sight, and several minutes went by.

There was a loud sigh, and the figure stalked down the stairs again to the pages scattered on the flowered rug, haphazardly pushing them back into the pockets of the robe that they wore. The figure then turned back to the stairs, and no more was seen of it that night.

* * *

 _ **The second Night**_

When the old clock chimed two and the little barn owl hooted mournfully in the pines, the same figure threw warm covers back and restlessly grabbed the pink robe hanging from the corner of her wardrobe. Pulling on slippers, she moved down the narrow hallways on tiptoes, past doors closed where the others lay sleeping peacefully.

She moved down the stairs slowly, and sat down in front of the fire again. Long minutes passed, the flames again rising higher against the wood she had carelessly tossed on there a few minutes earlier.

Her hand moved to the side of her robe, feeling the little crackle of well-worn pages. She resolutely crossed her arms. She didn't need to. There were no surprises. She was simply having a wakeful night, disturbed by looming exams and a persistent cough. She would get warm again, and she would go back to bed. And that would be the end of it.

Then the hand impatiently thrust itself into the pockets, pulling out the pages yet again. Cross-legged in front of the hearth, they were subjected to the merciless scrutiny of an English major: grammar, word selection and meaning pulled apart; as if refuting it was merely a matter of cool logic and reasoned discussion. Then silence, and the pages were put away carefully again. Overreaction was _completely_ unnecessary.

The figure stood again, and moved up the staircase, back to the little room she called her own. Tucking herself back into bed, with the pages clutched tightly in one hand, she fell asleep with the patter of rain against the windows.

* * *

 ** _The Third Night_**

The figure had been in its accustomed spot for an hour now, watching the flickering light blankly. The rose-patterned pages lay open beside her, but hadn't been picked up. After all, why would she need to? Surely the words were burnt into her brain by now.

So wrapped up in her own thoughts, she did not hear the soft footfalls coming up behind her.

"So our ghost is walking again."

Anne jumped, her hand over her heart in fright. " _Philippa Gordon_! What on earth are you doing awake?" she whispered crossly, slumping back onto her chair.

Phil came around to sit next to Anne on the little sofa, her brown curls coming loose around her shoulders.

"Honey, I think _you_ need to be answering that question, don't you?" she said mildly.

"I'm just awake," Anne said absently. "Must be the cold."

Phil looked at her shrewdly. "Anne, I may not be studying Psychology, however, I think it's pretty obvious that something is bothering you. Do you need to talk?"

Anne gave a short laugh. "What would I need to talk about?" she said, not looking at her friend.

Phil sighed, and got to her feet. "Sweetie, unless you plan to walk like Hamlet's unfortunate father for the rest of your life, I am going to _very quietly_ make us a cup of hot chocolate to keep warm. And then you are going to tell me why you are awake at one in the morning, and have been for the past few nights. Alright?"

Anne gave a small shiver, realising that she was in fact quite cold. "Alright." She said with a reluctant smile, still not intending to talk. As the minutes ticked by, Anne tucked Diana's letter out of sight. As confused as she felt, the last thing she needed was any questioning on that front.

Phil soon came in with a tray, with two steaming mugs and a plate of cookies Priss had made earlier that day. Anne smiled for the first time in a few hours.

"That _does_ look lovely. And there is something lawless about eating in the middle of the night. Marilla would be horrified."

"Oh, sweetie, I do this all of the time." Phil said dismissively. "Mother always sends me back here with several tins of cocoa, she and I used to drive the servants mad by doing this in the middle of the night when father was away for business. I've woken Jimsie up a few times, however she usually sleeps too deeply to catch me at it."

The girls sat quietly for a few minutes, and Anne gradually became aware that Phil was watching her.

"Well, Anne?"

Anne smiled and gave her a little shrug. "Can't a girl simply not be able to sleep?" she asked lightly.

Phil gave her a calculating look. "Anne, this is probably not my business, but may I ask, is this by any chance about Gilbert?" she asked carefully.

The reaction was immediate, and Anne nearly dropped the little blue cup she held in her shock. Phil watched her attempt to gather herself together, deftly moving the cookies to a safe distance away.

"Why- why would it be about him?" she said, attempting to speak carelessly.

She watched Phil's face change and an unusual gentleness cross her pretty features. "It is, isn't it, Anne?"

There was a long silence, and Anne sat bewildered, wondering how she could possibly deflect so accurate an observer. Then her shoulders fell, and she sighed. She'd been trying for three days to make sense of it- maybe she should tell her.

Anne reached into her pocket and reluctantly drew out the now dog-eared pages, written in Diana's prim little script. She handed it to Phil wordlessly. Phil was puzzled, but she set her cup on the little side table and took them.

As she began to read, the words flooded Anne's mind, and she buried her face in her hands for a moment.

 _I wonder if there is something you haven't seen… Anne, I think you love Gilbert…. You really_ _can't_ _see a life without him._

Phil's face was calm as she read through the first paragraphs, chuckling at first at Diana's dramatic news. Anne watched her out of the corner of her eye, and flinched as she saw her suddenly become still.

"Oh- Oh Anne-" she clutched Anne's arm, her eyes intent on the paper before her. "Oh my _goodness_!" she exclaimed, before Anne clapped a hand over her mouth.

"You need to keep quiet, Phil!" she hissed. She moved her hand, however Phil could not keep her thoughts contained so easily.

"Anne, oh Anne, oh, Di's _right_ , I would _never_ have dared-" Phil gasped with huge eyes. She read the next section breathlessly. "' _I think you need to let yourself fall in love with Gilbert Blythe-'"_ at this she gave a little scream, prompting Anne to put her hand back over her mouth.

"Phil, _please_ be quiet now. You'll wake everyone up." she said imploringly.

Phil was almost speechless for a moment while she finished the letter, and sat back in shock. "Oh Anne, this is- this is incredible-" she looked across at her friend, whose face did not reflect Phil's excitement.

"Anne, I'm really sorry about that. You- you just caught me by surprise." She breathed slowly. "Alright. Let's start at the beginning. How are you doing?"

Anne smiled sardonically. "I'm just marvellous, Phil. That's why I'm getting so much rest, and why you will find me tucked up nice and safely in bed right now." Her voice was bitter, and Phil's shoulders dropped in sympathy. She watched her for a moment, and then spoke to her earnestly.

"Anne? Di's not here. But I am. Please talk to me about this. I think you're so tied up in knots that it all seems too much, too frightening. Let's just look at it calmly."

Anne wiped a stubborn tear from her cheek. Her breath was uneven, and her lips trembled. "I don't think I _can_ be calm," she said unsteadily. "This- threatens- _everything_ \- and I can't lose him again Phil, I _can't_ lose him-" she broke into a sob, and Phil put her arms around her comfortingly.

"Come on now, sweetie; take a deep breath. You haven't lost him," she said soothingly. "You're not _going_ to lose him. Isn't this what the last couple of months have been about?" she asked. "You two are alright now."

Anne sat up, her eyes showing hurt in the flickering light. "Until when? Until he finds out? Until he realises what a colossal idiot I am, and decides that it's too much for him to handle, and we lose everything that we are all over again?" she said angrily.

Phil frowned. "Honey, I don't understand. Why would it be him that decides this is too hard?" she stopped and looked at Anne, her brow lowered. "Anne- you don't-" she paused, and then she took a deep breath. "You _do_. You know she's right, don't you?" Phil said slowly, and then watched Anne dissolve again into heart-wrenching tears. She sighed, and simply held her for a time, watching the fireplace as she gradually calmed. Eventually, Phil sat back and smiled, and tucked Anne's red hair behind her shoulders.

"You know that logic and _not_ imagination is my strong suit, don't you?" she said, her eyes kind. "So let's attack this logically."

Anne gave a wry smile. "If you can."

"Alright. When did you realise she was right?" Phil asked.

Anne sighed, and fell against the back of the sofa with a sigh. "I don't know. Today? Two days ago? I'm not sure."

Phil shook her head in disbelief. "You love him." she stated.

There was a pause, and then- "Yes."

Phil watched her stare off into the distance. "And?"

"And nothing." she replied dully. "I asked him for his friendship, and I have it now. And that has to be enough."

"Anne, honey; I'm not understanding you. Don't you think that maybe he feels the same way you do?"

"He only acts the way towards me the same way he always has." She said softly. "He's sweet, and loving and kind-"

"And you think that isn't love?" Phil said, bewildered.

"Phil, he doesn't love me like that anymore. I know that. Don't ask me how I know, I just do." she said, her voice wooden.

"Anne, please listen. When you refused him-"

A flash came into her grey eyes. "Phil, I am _not_ discussing that with you-"

Phil took her hands. "Anne, _Listen_. I know I was out of line back then. I know I hurt you, and that I broke some of the trust you had in me. I'm sorry, but I have to say this. When you refused him you were _both_ destroyed. I can see that now. And the reason you were both so broken is because you _belong_ together. You are two halves of a whole. Diana is _right_. This isn't one-sided- and it definitely isn't over. Di didn't tell you this to hurt you or destroy what you and Gilbert have together, but to help you see what the rest of us see in you."

Anne sighed, her hands coming up to rub her eyes. She was so _tired_. Tired of trying to see a way through, tired of trying to ignore everything she was afraid of. Tired of discovering things she _really_ should have noticed before.

The two of them jumped at the sound of footsteps behind them, and Priscilla's whisper came then.

"What are the two of you doing?"

"Oh, just talking." Phil said nonchalantly.

"Well move over, I can't sleep." she said with a sigh.

Phil turned to Anne. "Do you want some extra perspective, honey?" she asked, grinning. Anne flushed and groaned, as Phil handed her Diana's letter to read, shortly before a dishevelled Stella came down the stairs.

"What is this, a mothers meeting?" she joked. "You do all know it's nearly two o clock in the morning, don't you?" She came around the lounge just as Priscilla gasped out loud.

"Stella, this takes precedence;" she said, in awe. "Read _that_."

Anne cringed, hiding her face under the nearest cushion, seeing her private 'issue' now become a matter for public debate. But perhaps Phil was right- she did need some perspective.

"Oh, well I said _that_." Stella commented, pointing to a paragraph, and Priss put her face over her shoulder to read along with her.

"I know, this is what you and I were talking about! Oh, good old Diana!"

Anne glared at them both. "When you have finished pointing out how deluded I have been-" she said icily, and then slumped in defeat. She closed her eyes and sighed. "It doesn't change _anything_."

Phil cleared her throat and spoke quietly to the other two. "She thinks Gilbert will react poorly if he finds out that she loves him now."

" _You admitted that you love him?_?" Priscilla said excitedly. "I knew it, _I knew it_!" she said, throwing her arms around the shoulders of the distressed girl. "Oh Anne, don't be so ridiculous. You think he's coming here to see _us_?" she said, laughing.

"I do understand how much he cares about me-" Anne said in a pained voice. The other girls just looked at each other expressively. "But it doesn't mean he would ever put himself in that position again." Her voice broke a little then. "It nearly destroyed the two of us, and it was all my fault. I _won't_ let it happen again."

There was a short silence, while the three girls looked at each other, Anne's eyes distant and focused on the clock over the mantle. Finally, Stella reached across to put her hand on Anne's arm companionably. "Anne, I think you need to have some faith in the two of you." she said, her eyes candid. "You're terribly worked up right now, and no wonder. But if you really do love him, and we all agree with Diana that you _do_ -" Anne looked around at the chorus of nods that greeted this with a wry smile. "Then somehow, at some point it is going to be alright. And you can't underestimate Gilbert."

Anne sighed, and there was a short silence. "And what do I do if it isn't alright?" she asked softly.

Phil took her hand. "Then we will be there for you." she said simply. "But you won't lose Gilbert, no matter what happens. I know that for a fact."

Anne gave a shaky laugh. "And just how would you know that?"

Phil smiled. "Because he told me." she said. "Remember, he needs you too."

There were tears in Anne's eyes again, and she gave Phil's hand a quick squeeze. The moment was then broken by Stella abruptly.

"Now Anne, I think you would agree that we have all been _very_ understanding of the turmoil of the last few months." she said, her eyes twinkling.

Anne looked at her, startled. "Well, yes, I suppose so."

"Well, in view of that, I think you owe us something, Anne Shirley." Stella said mischievously. "We are completely _dying_ of curiosity; you need to tell us what Diana was talking about. _What on earth happened in that schoolhouse_?"

Anne groaned, and was besieged by the three girls pleading on all sides. Eventually she took a deep breath. "It is quite a long story." she said feebly.

"We need tea!" Phil cried excitedly. "Priss, come and help me, and so _help_ me, Anne Shirley; if you talk before we get back I will never forgive you."

Anne gave a reluctant grin, and the two girls scampered off quickly.

Stella took Phil's seat on the sofa, and gave Anne a quick look. "He really does love you." she said quietly.

Anne closed her eyes in pain, and there was a short silence. "Even if he did, Stella, that's just as terrifying." she whispered. "We just can't mess this up. We wouldn't recover again."

There was a short silence, and Stella nodded. "I can appreciate that. But at some point you have to figure out if you are able to take the risk. And you've never been one to shy away from a challenge, Anne."

Anne looked over at her with a slight smile, pushing her red curls back from her face.

"Stella, how can you be so logical about this?" she asked impatiently.

"Simple. It doesn't have a thing to do with me. You know that we saw this coming, even in Queens. He only had eyes for you." she said, grinning, just before the girls came back with laden trays.

Phil settled on the floor close to Anne's feet, just like the little children who once clamoured for a story at Miss Shirley's knee. Priss followed suit, handing out mugs to the girls, and turned to Anne expectantly.

"Is it scandalous?" Prissy asked with a gleam in her eye.

"Is it tragic, and will we need handkerchiefs?" Phil demanded.

"And _please_ tell me there are lots of juicy details that you will have to make us swear to never reveal?" Stella added longingly.

Anne's face was bright red, and she couldn't quite keep the smile from her face now. "To be honest, it's a little of all of the above." she said quietly. "And in order to avoid a truly enormous scandal, you really _must_ keep this a secret from everyone, even Aunt Jimsie."

Phil bit back a squeal, but then solemnly held her hand up. "We promise. Now tell us, tell us _, TELL US_!"

Anne twisted her long hair around her hand, and looked at the impatient faces before her with a slight smile.

"I suppose you _could_ say that it all starts with a wedding." she began.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

 _Diana,_

 _I am writing you to let you know that pregnancy has gone to your brain. Please advise Dr Spencer to administer some form of relief for all of our sakes. Madness does not suit you._

 _Anne._

* * *

Mr Blythe,

We regret to inform you that Anne Shirley has been arrested due to alleged academic misconduct and possible kidnapping. She is being exiled immediately to the Baltic States, and will henceforth not be contactable.

By anyone.

Your sincerely,

Highly Placed people in the academic echelons of Redmond.

* * *

 _Dear sir,_

 _It is fortunate that we have a friendship in which we can talk about anything. I have been informed that I apparently have romantic feelings for you. Please advise._

 _Respectfully, Anne Shirley._

* * *

Gilbert,

I have joined the foreign legion. I wish you well in all your future endeavours.

Anne.

* * *

 _Dear Diana,_

 _I am writing to refute your appalling and most profane allegations. My rebuttal will be in three parts, beginning with a close examination of said observer's sanity, moral character and well-known tendency to hysteria._

* * *

 _Dear Gilbert-_

 _I love you._

* * *

On the Monday morning following Anne's midnight revelations; the girls of Patty's Place left for Redmond early, still yawning and somewhat dishevelled. Anne strode along behind the others, deep in thought. Despite the broken sleep and midnight prowling, she was returning to college better, and reasonably well rested.

Would she see Gilbert that morning? He often had classes early, and she knew his exams began the next day, as hers did. Anne took a deep breath. It was going to be alright. They were adults, weren't they? And they had come through so much together- surely this was something that could be handled. She knew him- she trusted him. It would all be fine.

Of course, that didn't stop the little ache in her heart, the one that started as soon as she realised what they could have had together had she only understood herself. Anne brushed an unruly red curl out of her eyes with a sigh. It was just _timing_. If only she'd seen back then, if only she'd known enough to ask him to wait.

If only it didn't take someone _else_ to point out the obvious.

In reality, being convinced had only taken five minutes. Five minutes after Gilbert had quitted her room, five minutes since she slit the envelope of Diana's letter and opened the rose frosted pages. Her eyes flew over the lines quickly with growing astonishment, and a small cry left her mouth when Diana dropped her bombshell. She had stayed motionless in her bed for a long time, trying to accustom herself to this most surprising revelation.

Surely it was ridiculous, a fever induced dream. After everything they had been through, this could not possibly be happening _now_! Somewhere in the back of her mind, a little version of herself was beginning to laugh- laughing hysterically. Only she- only _she_ would be so blind. Oh, of course; if Anne Shirley was to fall in love, of _course_ it was bound to be a catastrophe from the outset.

She only needed those five minutes, really. She may have paced- may have cross-examined Diana's words, may have ostensibly written them off in her mind. She may have spent three days and nights alone trying to figure it out, emulating Jonah in her need to avoid the truth. Anne gave the faintest ghost of a laugh. Jonah hadn't needed three days to find out he was wrong: he knew as soon as he found himself in the belly of the whale. And so had she.

Anne had blown out her little lamp when some feeling had returned to numb fingers and lay in complete darkness trying to process the entirely new train of thought. And yet- _not_ so new. Panic rose inside as she recognised the thoughts had been there- had been there for so long that they were practically a part of the furniture of her mind.

This was Gilbert- her old chum _Gilbert_. The one she climbed trees with, fought with and competed with. The only person who ever dared to challenge her, who would cross his arms stubbornly and refuse to cave in to whatever irrational plan she had at the time. The one who would stare at her with those hazel eyes that seemed to look right through her, as if he could see to her very core.

Gilbert, who had been her constant companion of late- talking and laughing, sitting together in silence. The Gilbert she was so afraid to lose, and the one she could not now imagine living without. He was so tender, so caring- even the night he had visited her, sitting on the floor of her room companionably, in spite of her dishevelled state. The many times it had only been the two of them, seemingly in their own little world- and she had always known that no one's company satisfied her more.

On the third night, she had again been unable to sleep. Getting out of bed in the dark was now a familiar habit, and as she moved down the stairs, she came to sit in front of the fire again. Amidst the present turmoil, she found herself tracing patterns in the fire, remembering that night with Gilbert. When only the fireplace and their own hurting hearts had been there for company.

How differently the night of the hurricane appeared to her now. Her anger, her pain- it only made sense now. As much as she had missed him, even then, it hadn't been enough. She _loved_ him. Of course she did. And whether Gilbert or she realised it or not, she saw with painful clarity that her feelings for him were behind every tear, every hurled accusation and every plea. The fire crackled higher in the little hearth, and Gilbert's words came back to her- " _I loved you for half my life… I loved you with everything I had in me._ "

Loved. Not _Love_.

She shivered, suddenly hearing Mr Phillip's pointer cracking on the desks in the front of the schoolroom, his voice impatient and sarcastic.

" _You must pay attention to the tense. The past tense is what_ _happened_ _, not what_ _is_. _Are you listening, Anne Shirley?_ "

Anne flinched, as she had at the angry voice of her old teacher.

It was the _past_ she heard Gilbert speak about. _His_ past.

The present with him was a blessing, a balm for the hurt they had gone through together. However, her thoughts were turning inevitably and with greater pain to the future. Gilbert had a warm heart, he was handsome and good- a man any woman would wish for. And she couldn't keep him from finding happiness with another, no matter how badly the mere thought of that tortured her.

The clock had just struck one, and Anne sighed. She really _should_ head up to bed now, but couldn't make herself move at the moment. She pulled her legs up onto the sofa beside her, looking thoughtfully into the dimness.

What if he was sitting with her now? Would she tell him? Or would she try and talk normally, as if the hours spent revising everything she knew about the two of them hadn't existed? Would he be able to read it on her face, or would she somehow be able to hide it from those eyes that seemed to observe her so clearly?

The girls had come then- clear-sighted Phil, dreamy Priscilla and the honest, teasing Stella. Somehow bringing her back some sanity, and unlocking the cage of her three-day long confinement. She told them the story, and they had comforted, had listened and gasped at all the right places. Priscilla was torn between- "Oh, _Anne_ ," and " _Oh, poor_ _Gilbert_ _…_ ", unable to decide who she felt more for at the time.

Stella had alternately groaned and laughed at the extremes of emotion Anne had described. "Doesn't anyone else see that it sounds like a Greek tragedy?" and Phil who had a hand on either cheek and a wide open mouth for the latter half of the story could only say one thing, in a squeak so high Anne almost missed it- " _You mean you- and he- slept in front of the fire all night? TOGETHER?"_

"Phil, they had no choice," Priss interrupted crossly. "The storms on the Island aren't like the little ones we get here, they come straight off the Gulf. What would _you_ have done?"

"Well, I'd at _least_ have thrown myself into his arms at some point after the yelling had stopped," Phil said with a return to her normal tone, causing Anne to choke on the cup of tea she had just been sipping.

The one thing Anne had not told them was about the moment her lips had touched Gilbert's. The only kiss she had ever had, given when her heart finally overruled her head. The kiss she had replayed over and over for the last three days, remembering little things- the scratch of his rough jaw on her fingers, the softness of his lips against hers, and the feel of his taut body holding her against him so firmly. If it felt like that for a _goodbye_ \- her thoughts usually jammed up at this point, and she closed her own lips tightly. She hadn't even told Diana about that.

No, that was for her alone to know.

Herself- and Gilbert.

* * *

As the girls approached the gates, Anne felt a shock ripple through her, seeing him inexplicably waiting at the gate for her. The girls passed on ahead with slight grins on their faces, and she watched in fascination as Gilbert merely waved to them, and moved to her side immediately. The blush that had started on her cheeks at the first sight of him spread quickly, and her very skin soon seemed too hot to touch. She shifted her books uncomfortably and was further befuddled when in true gentlemanly form, Gilbert removed them from her arms and winked at her.

She was trying to come up with something witty to say- oh, who was she kidding, she would settle for _any_ sensible words- when he bent down to look her in the face.

"It's so good to see you back here- you seem all better now," Gilbert commented, with a grin. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to go with my Plan B for the ball."

Anne looked up at him, snapped from her distraction momentarily. "You had a plan?"

He gave that cocky grin she loved and shrugged. "Of course. You and I would get dressed up anyway, and we would stay warm at home together in front of the fire on Saturday night. We'd pretend we were under sparkling lights; I'd carry multiple handkerchiefs in my pocket to keep your nose well supplied, _and_ the bonus would be that I wouldn't have to share you with any other dance partners."

Anne's eyelashes fluttered down, hiding eyes that were suspiciously bright. She cleared her throat self-consciously. "That actually sounds very nice, Gil. Are you sure you don't just want to do that instead?" she teased, trying to cover the emotions welling up inside.

He looked at her sideways, a slight grin on his face. "Well, maybe if we leave the ball early, we could do that afterwards. It's the first social event I've looked forward to in over a year and a half, so it would be a shame to miss it."

Anne looked at him as they walked, wondering if he could hear her heart pounding. She searched for _something_ to talk about- anything would do at this point. Here she was, walking along beside Gilbert Blythe, and she couldn't think of anything to say- _to him_! Her! Anne Shirley! His elbow was brushing her upper arm as they walked, and all she could think of was that glimpse she once had of those elbows… his arms with the little dark hairs scattered across them lightly and the seams of the sleeves stretching along the bulging contours of his well-toned upper arms… oh, those _arms_...

Suddenly finding her mouth dry, she realised Gilbert was talking to her.

"I get the sense that I'm boring you today, Miss Shirley," his voice said lightly, with a grin.

She broke out in a blush then, internally berating herself from the lapse of concentration.

"I'm sorry, Gil. It's just taking a little time to acclimatise," she said slowly, not really knowing what she was saying. "You know, to being better," she added feebly.

He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. "Well, just in case you need the reminder, I'm Gilbert. And we're good friends," he said, his voice teasing. "And I'm coming to your house to study tonight since you said you would help me with the rest of the definitions I need to have memorised."

"I know perfectly well who you are, Mr Blythe," Anne said, with a slight chuckle.

Gilbert stopped outside the hall and looked at Anne, who had made no move to go inside yet. She _was_ distracted. By what, though?

"This is you, isn't it?" he asked, puzzled.

"Oh- er, yes. I just—" Anne floundered, unable to think what she was ' _just'_. Just wool-gathering? Distracted? Wondering what would happen if she were to just _tell_ him exactly what she was thinking about? She shivered slightly.

He bent down to look her in the eyes again. "Is everything alright, Anne?" When she didn't answer, he took one of her hands in his free one. "Anne? Did you need to talk to me about something?"

Anne looked up at him, once again wordless. His hazel eyes were looking so deeply into her own, and she could see he was more than a little concerned. She swallowed and smiled a little, and shook her head.

"I'm alright," she said quietly. She could see he didn't quite believe her but gave her a grin as he handed her books to her. She didn't take her eyes from his for a moment; when she did it was only to let them wander upwards. Quite of its own volition, her free hand wandered up to run gentle fingers through his brown hair.

"Your curls are growing back." she murmured dreamily. His eyebrows had shot up his forehead at her touch, and he cautioned himself not to breathe, while her hand stroked the side of his head gently. He then watched in fascination as she started, pulling her hand away as if burned. Her cheeks were red, and she looked away in confusion.

"Oh, yes, this is my class. Thank you, Gilbert. I need to go inside, to do the lecturing. I mean, to listen to it. The lecturing, I mean. And I'll see you today. Well, tonight. There's still a whole day to go until tonight. And dinner. And I have a class." She gave him an embarrassed smile and ran in through the double doors.

Gilbert looked around him, bewildered. Good heavens, what had gotten into the girl? She was acting like- acting as if- but no, _surely_ -

Gilbert shook himself, trying to break the spell her hands had put him under. He didn't have to figure it all out then and there, time would surely tell. He walked off with a final glance at the doors her red head had disappeared behind, his mouth curving into a slight smile. Whatever was going on, things were certainly looking more promising.

* * *

Two days later, Gilbert wasn't so sure anymore. Anne had been increasingly remote and had declined to go for a walk the previous night, saying she had an essay she had to finish. For the first time, a little cold fear came into his heart. It had all been so dreamlike up till now, but there was something he couldn't put his finger on yet. What was bothering her? She didn't keep secrets from him anymore, did she?

He had gone for a run, hoping to work off some of his frustration and anxiety. Surely three days couldn't negate the last three months. And she was still coming with him to the ball. He knew. He'd checked more than once, insecure idiot that he was. She had seemed surprised at the question; that had to be positive, right?

Had she met someone else? Was she interested in someone, and couldn't find a way to tell him, her old chum?

Or had she figured him out? Was she pulling away as she had before, when she felt afraid of his intentions? He had thought she would have told him if that was the case- that was the relationship they had now. However, in the meantime her silence was making him decidedly nervous.

By Wednesday afternoon, he was getting desperate. Professor Wheeler had been droning on in class for over an hour now, and he was sitting next to Phil in the back rows again, his leg bouncing up and down against the table leg. Phil bore it patiently for a while, and finally snapped, thumping his closest leg under the table.

"Here!" he scowled. "What was that for?"

"Honestly, do you even know you're _doing_ that, Gil?" Phil whispered crossly. "You're so jumpy you could go through the roof. What's the problem?"

Gilbert folded his arms crossly. He'd promised himself he wasn't going to Phil about Anne anymore. He only talked to _Anne_ about Anne now, because they were adults, weren't they? Unconsciously his leg started jiggling again, his mouth kept stubbornly shut.

Phil watched him, amused. Thankfully the professor was merely going over the notes from the past term, so she could concentrate on Gilbert's woes.

"Gilbert, you may as well talk to me. I'm not exactly known for keeping my nose out of other people's business," she said placidly.

He frowned. He didn't want to. He only wanted to talk to _her- only she wasn't talking._ He let out a resigned sigh, and looked across at Phil. It wasn't the worst idea, and at least this way he might get some answers.

"Alright. What's going on with Anne?" he asked reluctantly, hating being in the position of not knowing again.

If Phil jumped slightly, she covered it well. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that she is behaving oddly, and she won't talk to me anymore," he said, the pain perceptible in his voice. "I just thought that everything was going well, and now _this_ happens. And I don't know if I did something, or if she has something she doesn't want me to know about- I don't know anything," he said tiredly, ruffling his hair with his hand.

Phil nodded, her face impassive. She couldn't say anything here- it had to come from Anne herself. But was there any harm in easing his mind?

"Gilbert, everything is fine," she said, at last. He shot her a derisive glance, and she chuckled. "Well, to you it may not look fine, but she's actually doing pretty well, all things considering."

Gilbert sat up, leaning in to talk in a quiet voice. "Phil, if it was fine she would talk to me."

"Not unless it was something she _couldn't_ talk to you about." she said impatiently.

"Which is?"

Phil sighed, not wanting to either give her friend away or reveal something she shouldn't. "Gilbert, do you trust me?" she looked him in the eye candidly.

His jaw tightened, but he nodded after a pause.

"Then _please_ believe me. Everything with her is completely, wonderfully fine. Things between the two of you are fine. She may look like she is floating on a breeze, but there are some things she needs to process- and you need to trust me that you can't help her with that- _yet_. Just keep doing what you're doing- make her laugh. Talk to her even if she's not ready to talk to you yet. I _promise_ it's going to be alright," she said earnestly.

Gilbert seemed to struggle with her answer, but at last gave her a nod. The professor was winding up his lecture, and Phil used the noise of the restless classroom to finish speaking.

"Look, I'll tell you this. She _is_ talking to us at least, and an Anne that is talking is a good thing. You know that. There are good reasons why it isn't to you yet. I know she will tell you when the time is right."

He studied his clasped hands, his head bowed, and shook his head slightly. "I can't lose her now, Phil," he said dully.

She gave a little sigh, her head on one side. "Gilbert, neither of you are losing each other. But it doesn't mean you're not both afraid to," she said, causing him to look up sharply. "She feels that way too." Phil suddenly grinned. She felt for him, she really did. But knowing what she knew, he would be out of misery soon enough. She couldn't, however, miss teasing him, as the rest of the class got to their feet to leave.

"Gilbert, there's something I think you should know," she said, her eyes narrowing mischievously as she packed up her books. She leant across to his table to look him in the eye.

" _I_ know what you did last summer."

Phil grinned at him impishly and turned, leaving Gilbert sitting in the empty classroom, motionless and utterly speechless.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

When Gilbert arrived at Patty's Place on Thursday night, he was relieved to see an Anne who appeared to be back to normal. She closed the door behind him, chatting about the evening's work quite sociably, her hand brushing his shoulder as he stepped inside. He stepped past her with a slight smile, wondering idly what she would do if he were to simply give the kiss of greeting that he had always wanted to bestow on her. One day he would actually do it, he told himself.

When they were once again sitting in their accustomed spots, he looked over at her with a critical eye.

Well, she _looked_ alright. He amended that in his mind with an unseen grin, she was gorgeous. She was in a blue dress he loved, a deep blue that brought out the rich colour of her hair, and suited her slim figure to perfection. Ah, her figure… He sighed, and was brought back by a curious look from those grey eyes.

"Sorry, I must be tired." he said, embarrassed to be caught daydreaming like that. Suddenly he frowned, looking at her speculatively. "Anne, do you _really_ want to work this evening?"

She shrugged and gave a little grin. "No. Not at all. I imagined I was humouring _you_."

His own books got tossed to one side, and he laid his head back on the sofa with closed eyes, and a satisfied smile that made her chuckle.

"Well, neither do I. What should we do instead?"

Anne gave a little sigh at the delightful 'we' falling from his lips. She had made up her mind that she would enjoy whatever time they had together, to enjoy the year she knew belonged to them. She smiled. "Anything but study. Did you want to take that walk?"

He looked at her in surprise. "You want to?"

"I'd love nothing better than to get out. I've done that horrible essay now, so nothing is pressing. And Aunt Jimsie has finally stopped telling me I am endangering my health by breathing the fresh air." she said, her eyes sparkling with fun.

Gilbert was on his feet, shrugging into his coat and scarf, and Anne went to fetch her own quickly. She put on her knitted cap, and was surprised when Gilbert removed the scarf from her hands, and proceeded to wind it around her carefully, his smiling eyes on hers. She stood there while he did so, her cheeks flushing at his tender actions.

Gilbert had spent considerable time thinking about Phil's words. She was a tease, but she wouldn't string him along if there was something wrong- so he had to just trust that everything was alright. He could only think of one reason Anne would have told Phil about the summer, and he had made the choice to put his faith in that, and in the relationship they had. Maybe he was also testing the waters a little- he held out his hand to her as they left the veranda, warmly bundled up. She took it with a slight smile, and he breathed a sigh of relief. No, things _definitely_ weren't the same as the old days. This was much better.

They wandered the park as was their custom, and finally ended up in the little pavilion that faced the moonlit water. They had been sitting on the seat for a few minutes, when Gilbert noticed that she was shivering.

"Anne, we're crazy to be out right now, especially after you just got better. We should go." He went to stand, however she put her other hand on his arm, to keep them where they were.

"Oh please not yet, Gil. I've missed being outside." she said, her big eyes pleading in a way he would never be able to resist.

He chuckled, putting his arm around her to warm her up. "Then I'd better do _this_ so you don't get sick again."

Anne sat, enjoying the feel of his coat against her cheek. It was warmer this way, warmer than she had felt in a long time. Every now and then she would look up at him wonderingly. Did good friends really act like this with each other? Or had there ever been such friends before, as they were? Was it possible he could still care for her? Anne caught her breath at this. If it weren't for his previous words, spoken when truth was all they had left to give each other, she might have begun to think so.

"So you didn't want to do this on Tuesday then?" he asked lightly, trying not to hint how much it had worried him.

Anne chuckled. "Oh, I did. But I had that Anatomy essay due."

He sat back, looking at her puzzled. "Anne, I didn't know you were taking that class. Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped you. I did that in first year."

Even in the darkness he could see her blushing. "I know, but I think I would have died of embarrassment if you had." she muttered sheepishly.

Gilbert smiled, amused. "It's just the human body, Miss Shirley."

"That's easy for _you_ to say." she retorted. "You're the future doctor."

"Yes, and we _all_ have a body. Why did you even take the course if it worries you?"

Anne looked at him, smiling. "Don't you remember, Gilbert? You suggested it. You said that everyone should learn how we were put together. I had a free subject, and finally decided to do it this semester."

Gilbert couldn't keep the grin from his face. "I think I _said_ that to you in first year. I can't believe you actually listened to me."

She laughed at that. "I may not have looked it, but I always paid attention, Gil. And you were right too, a lot of illnesses are a result of ignorance. Overall it has been very interesting, although I could have done without the last lecture and essay." she said drolly.

"Ah. That would be Comparative Physiology." Gilbert said, with a laugh.

"Yes. Although it could just be called ' _Boys and Girls are different'_." Anne chuckled herself, some of her embarrassment fading as they talked. "Some of the other ladies were quite distressed, even with the lecturer separating men and women for modesty's sake. I began to see the advantages of my upbringing."

Gilbert's arms tightened around her. "Wait, what do you mean?" he asked, looking concerned.

Anne looked up at him, with an indulgent smile. "I meant that there _were_ some advantages, Gil. No, it wasn't good, and it wasn't at all nice. However, I watched some of the women in the class with me, as well as many of those I grew up with. As much as I would have loved to be sheltered a little more, when some of them are confronted with the more challenging aspects of life they often don't know how to handle it. I _had_ to handle it, so I was perhaps a little less embarrassed." she said philosophically.

Gilbert looked at her, curious. Anne smiled, somehow knowing what he wanted to ask.

"You already knew I brought up children, some of them from birth. I've seen illnesses, injuries, death; I've seen childbirth more times than I would care to admit." She paused, suddenly feeling vulnerable again, and looked up him with a slight sadness on her face. She continued to talk slowly. "I've seen what poverty can drive people to, how cruel it can make them." She gave a dry laugh. "And even without the lectures, I already knew how children came into the world."

Gilbert found himself swallowing hard. His arm was already around her, however he couldn't help holding her a little tighter. Such innocence lost, and so young. How had she survived?

Anne smiled at him fondly. "I'm honestly alright, Gil. I don't live in that place anymore. I'm not alone, I'm cared about, and I am privileged to be completing my education- and then there's _you_." Anne didn't notice the jump he gave at her last words, and she continued. "And the extra knowledge of the world hasn't hurt me too much- at least I didn't pass out when the professor said the word ' _abdomen'_ like one young lady did."

He laughed then. "So I can tell you all kinds of gruesome stories when I'm actually at medical school?"

She wrinkled her nose at that. "Remember that I used my imagination to _hide_ from all of those realities at times. Maybe just a little at a time."

They were silent for a time, until the fog started drifting in from the harbour.

"We really can't say here any longer, Anne-girl. But I feel like tea." Gilbert said suddenly. "Warmth and tea. Do you want to go back home to get warm again?"

Anne nodded and stood up, stretching and shaking her hands to get some blood flowing through her cold body again. Gilbert watched her amused, until she held her gloved hand out to him. He smiled, all the warmth he was lacking flooding into his veins seeing her reach for him again.

"Come on; I would say that I would race you, however I am not wearing suitable footwear." she teased lightly. "I'll make you that cup of tea when we get home."

As he took her hand, Anne felt the air leave her lungs abruptly. Her innocent comment about _tea_ and _home_ hung in the air; and even though there was no possible way Gilbert could know the thoughts that ran through her mind, she flushed deeply in embarrassment. Her words to Diana nearly six months ago danced around her now, as did the image of a little rose-strewn bedroom. Even _more_ disconcerting was the knowledge that she had been thinking of Gilbert, even then. Good grief, would the hidden memories ever stop surprising her like this?

He stood as well, watching the sudden shift in her demeanour. He studied her in the seconds that followed. What if he didn't overreact? What if he didn't simply assume the worst, and did as Phil suggested?

"Anne?"

She seemed to shake herself, and then she smiled at him with a slight blush on her cheeks. He pulled her to walk closer to him, as they took the path back to Patty's Place.

"Anne, where do you go when you do that?" he asked with a slight chuckle. "All this week, it's been like you are with me for a moment, and then you aren't- and when you come back, you look just like _that_."

Anne was not sure what to say, having not quite expected him to notice. She floundered a little, and then gave up, grinning half-heartedly. Of _course_ his clear-sighted eyes would be able to see through her. She looked at him sideways, wondering how best to explain herself.

"It's been a very odd sort of week, I suppose." she said slowly. "I had some unexpected letters from home, and there were some things in them that made me wonder just how much I really knew about the past. Oh, not bad things," she added, seeing the frown on his face. "Just things that people could see in me that _I_ didn't see. And some of those things were pointed out."

Gilbert merely nodded at this point.

"And _now_ I find that when I remember some events, they catch me by surprise, because I didn't notice them at the time. It's a little embarrassing to find out how much of you can still surprise yourself." Anne finished, her voice conveying her confusion. There was a strange relief in telling him this- in letting even a small portion of the truth out. He looked back at her thoughtfully, and nodded.

"Do you ever feel like that?" she enquired suddenly.

"That I surprise myself?" he replied, startled. "I- well, I suppose so. I guess if there's something I'm not ready to deal with and it sneaks up on me, yes." he said with a shrug. Anne found herself chuckling inexplicably. Only Gilbert would put his finger on the issue so succinctly, without knowing anything about the situation. No wonder she had been such a mess since June.

At her little laugh, Gilbert gave her an intrigued look, and then the charming grin she remembered from their schooldays. Immediately she blushed again, yet another realisation at her heels. She remembered how often in class she had watched him, studying the way he would concentrate on his work, spinning the pencil on his fingertips while studying his sums, his brown curls pushed aside impatiently by a lean brown hand. All while _supposedly_ hating him with furious energy. She pulled herself back with a wry laugh.

"Well, Gilbert, that's pretty much the case." she said, self-consciously. "It's just confusing- and I'm not sure if I'm ready to deal with all of these new perspectives all at once. And then we have exams, and we're coming to the end of four years of schooling. Not to mention that we're going back to the island in only a few weeks; it's all just a little- overwhelming." She looked up at him, with a slight smile. "Is the wisdom of twenty-four a match for that, Mr Blythe?"

Gilbert smiled slightly. He looked down at her, her eyes glinting in jest, but nevertheless earnestly. He knew she was really asking.

"Well, I am very wise." he said philosophically, earning for himself an elbow in the ribs. "Do you want to know what my mantra has been lately?" he asked, looking down at her thoughtfully.

She looked up at him, questioningly.

"One day at a time."

Anne chuckled. "That's it?"

"That's it. I'm learning that I can't always rush ahead, and I can't run to meet everything in my life- some things have to just come to me on the stream, so to speak: I can't make them go faster. Or I need to let the stream carry me where I need to go. Either way, I can't force it. Maybe you could just let it happen, let it wash over you a little, instead of trying to figure it all out now." Gilbert said, with a shrug.

Anne's eyes studied him curiously. It was ironic, really, that the one person she couldn't talk to was the one who had the most insight to offer on the craziness inside her own heart. "So just go with it then?" she said thoughtfully, her cheeks slightly pink.

"Yes. Listen to Gilbert. Go with the stream." he said sanctimoniously, and then darted away laughing from the hand that was moving to slap him playfully.

"So what did Diana have to say in her letter?" he asked lightly, when they were crossing the boundaries of the park, and about to cross Spottford Avenue. Anne stumbled slightly on the side of the road at his perfectly normal question, and Gilbert reached an arm to steady her.

"Easy there, I don't want you to damage your Lateral Malleolus now." he teased. "You know that one, right? Come on; can't you see how helpful I could be on anatomy?"

She laughed at that. "Alright, fine; you can help me study for next week's exam. But I will do the Comparative section on my _own_." she emphasised.

He swung in front of her then, his hazel eyes holding her grey ones cheekily. "Alright. But you should know I got a hundred percent on that paper. _Both_ parts." He winked at her, and then grinned when her cheeks instantly flamed into colour. He cleared his throat then, and turned back to the road ahead of them, his hands in his pockets after his rather daring comments. Patty's Place was a distant light at the top of the hill, and they kept walking towards it, each of them exulting in their time together.

"So, you never told me. How are the Wrights? Any news?" he asked lightly.

Anne gave a little chuckle. "The very best kind of news."

He turned to look at her big smile, and burst out laughing.

"So soon? That's wonderful. Ah, they _do_ grow up so fast. It only seems like five months since I was at their wedding…. Oh, wait, it _was_ …." Gilbert said teasingly, seeing her laugh again much to his pleasure. "Well, congratulations to us as well. Aren't we honorary aunts and uncles? We were the best man and maid of honour at the wedding."

"I think so, although we won't win prizes for our presence at the moment." she said with a little sigh. "She also hopes they will see us in the holidays at some stage." _Together_ , she thought wistfully, however she couldn't quite manage that part out loud.

Gilbert smiled, taking her hand once again. "We'll plan on it." He flushed and cleared his throat slightly. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to assume you will have as much time for me when we're back at home, you will have more demands on your time than an old chum." he said, with a quick smile.

She held his hand a little tighter. "You're not just any old chum, Gil. Of _course_ I'll make time."

He looked at her sideways. "You could come and say hello to mother and dad."

He felt rather than saw the tensing in her, and pulled her slightly closer. "Anne, that was back then, _this_ is now. You were and still are my best friend- and you know my mother loved you."

A slight prickle of tears came to her eyes at that. Her voice faltered as she replied. " _Loved_. Not love." She looked at him and shook her head. "I don't know if she will ever forgive me for hurting you." she whispered.

Gilbert took her in his arms at that, not caring about the opinions of the residents of Kingsport's wealthiest street.

"She will because she's my mother." he said firmly. "She won't tell you about it, but she's made mistakes and misjudged situations at times. And she knows that you'll always be my friend. I did tell them about this, you know."

As she rested her head against his chest, he closed his eyes over the top of her auburn hair, shining in the faint light of the street lamps. Wanting, aching to tell her how he loved her, to tell her that his parents could never reject the woman whom he wanted for his wife. To sweep her up in his arms, so that she could never doubt he wanted to be hers, to hold her to him and possess her entirely.

His own lecture about the stream came to him then, and he let her go with a slight chuckle that he didn't try to explain. She smiled up at him then with a little sigh.

"If you think she won't mind, I'll visit whenever I can." she said softly. "And you know how much the Green Gables folk will want to see you too."

Gilbert shivered in the night air. "I'll come. But as nice as that sounds, this is getting colder out here by the second; we probably only have a good hour before I have to head home. And I do want that tea."

Anne chuckled, her cheeks much warmer suddenly. "I wrote Marilla at the beginning of term to tell her that you were staying at Redmond; she was the only person I spoke to about that. She told me that she was very happy that we had mended our friendship, in her own reserved way." She glanced up at him then. "Was it alright that I told her that?"

"It's fine, I'm glad that you did." he said, surprised. He then smiled to himself. He would have to have a talk with Marilla himself one of these days, if everything went according to plan.

Anne and Gilbert turned in the little gate, and went inside to meet Stella and Aunt Jimsie, who were just sitting down to tea themselves. They settled into a lively discussion with the two women, and it was nearly two hours before Gilbert reluctantly got up to leave. Anne walked him to the door then, and the ladies melted out of sight discretely.

"I have back-to-back classes all day and a lecture tomorrow night, so I probably won't see you until I pick you up on Saturday evening." he said reluctantly.

Anne's face broke into a cheeky smile. "I think you will be seeing plenty of me that night, Gil. Unless you _want_ me to fill my card with innumerable gentleman so that you don't have to step foot on the dance floor." she teased.

He stepped in close to her. "Don't you _dare_ , Anne." he said in a low voice; and the warm, lingering kiss he left on her hand was his only goodbye. Her legs were trembling slightly as she watched him walk out the door and into the cold evening again. He turned at the gate to wave, and even in the darkness, she could see his eyes twinkling at her. His voice- it had been so _intimate_.

Anne closed the door when he had gone, and was startled to find Gilbert's dark grey wool scarf still on the peg by the door, and her own dove grey one missing. She picked his up with a curious little smile. She didn't need to chase him with it, hers would be warm enough for his trip home.

She left the lamps on for Phil, and walked up the stairs to her little blue room. She locked the door, but didn't bother to put on any light as she got changed into her nightgown, and climbed into bed. The comforting darkness made it seem much less foolish when she pulled his scarf loosely around her own neck, and snuggled with it into her downy pillows; smiling at the thought of her own scarf wrapped around him.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

By four-o-clock on Saturday afternoon, the four girls were sitting down to an early tea with Aunt Jimsie, in order to get preparations for the ball underway. The big tub had been lugged to each of the rooms that morning, creating all kinds of chaos and laughter. Priscilla's floor had accidentally received an impromptu bath when an over-eager Phil had missed the edge of the tub by almost a foot; the resultant mess was eventually cleaned up, and more care was taken from the point.

Anne was uncharacteristically quiet throughout the day. She enjoyed the fun with the others, and was looking forward to the evening, however a part of her was slightly removed- somehow _waiting_. When the tea was finished, she was the first to leave the table, and didn't notice Phil's sharp eyes followed her up the stairs thoughtfully.

The little blue room showed the signs of the morning's work; towels, clothes and ribbons scattered over the surfaces, and her dress laid carefully on the end of the bed. Anne sat against her pillow, with a sigh. The morning had begun early for her, and she lay back on the bed, her slender feet crossed, and arms behind her head. An arrested look drifted across her face, recalling the dream that had awoken her so early that morning.

 _She was walking through the old woods she loved. The pines were releasing their mellow fragrance in the mingled mist and sunshine of early morning, and summertime flowers bloomed in the shady hollows. She was not wandering idly; she was searching for someone. Every now and then she thought she heard an echo, a word, a distant laugh. She would turn to the source of the sound, and see a fragmented memento; an old book in the crook of a tree, a chipped porcelain tea cup beside a little spring. A pencil found amongst a patch of white violets, and a dusky red apple lying in a green, mossy hollow._

 _As she came to a clearing, she stopped, bewildered. Surely she should have found the one she sought, surely she had searched long enough. Instead she was alone; the woods behind her completely still, completely silent. She turned her head in every direction, and saw she was the only thing that moved. Determined to keep searching, she moved to go back into the wood. This time she heard footsteps behind her and froze. She was not the one searching; she was the one being pursued. She turned to look behind her fearfully, but still saw no one. She moved forward and the footsteps came closer; and it was then that she sensed their presence behind her._

 _The steps behind her came to a stop, and unsure, her own feet did as well. In the silence, her heart pounded fiercely, waiting for the presence to speak. Instead, her breath caught as she felt two warm hands slip around her waist from behind. They moved slowly and surely, and she was pulled against someone, her eyes shutting at their touch. The hands began to slid up from her waist, and a soft sigh left her mouth. She turned to face him hungrily, her hands coming up to caress his cheeks. She pulled herself closer and her lips were near his, both of them breathing heavily-_

It was at this point that Anne awoke, suddenly breathless with her hand on her chest in shock. Coming through her curtains was the faint light of early morning, and faintly she could hear the gulls calling to each other over the water. It was just a dream, a fantasy- and yet here was her heart pounding as if he was beside her. She lay back on the pillows with a relieved sigh, pulling the covers up in the chilly air. It _was_ cold. Eventually, unable to sleep, she had gone down to sit by the fire with a book.

Now she lay on her bed trying to make sense of the fluttering she felt inside. She had been to so many dances with Gilbert- been spun around ballrooms and little halls, friends' houses and outside platforms. But never when she had felt the strange burning inside to touch him, to hold him close. The dreams had been more intense since Diana's letter, however it was still a surprise to realise they had in fact been there all along- she'd just never let herself admit what they were. Never had she so struggled to keep the emotions off her face, to restrain the impulsive side of her that _would_ keep rearing its inquisitive head.

She was mulling over this problem and others, when she heard a gentle tap at her door.

"Anne? Do you need some help dressing?" Phil called.

"You can come in, Phil." Anne replied, amused. Phil _knew_ she wouldn't be dressing this early.

Sure enough, she came into the room and closed it behind her, taking a seat next to Anne on the bed.

"Move over, honey; I need to rest my poor feet for tonight."

Phil made herself at home with a sigh, and once resting on Anne's other pillow the two of them lay lazily watching the little patterned ceiling.

"All ready for tonight?" she asked lightly.

"You mean apart from being dressed? Oh, I think so."

"And Gilbert is picking you up from here to walk with us?"

"Yes."

Phil looked at her, a little crooked smile on her lips. "And may I ask how are we doing about the said gentleman now?"

Anne's face was pink, and she hid for a moment before answering. "I think- well." she said, hesitantly. "It's terribly confusing, Phil."

"Of course it is, darling." Phil said in a matter-of-fact tone. "All love is."

Anne sighed, and Phil watched her wind a scarf around her fingers carefully. She was silent for a while, and then asked- "Are you still sure it's love?"

Phil sat up to look at her. "Are you _not_?"

Anne shook her head. "I mean that I'm just not entirely sure how _he_ feels." she said reluctantly. "I mean, I think I know, however when I ask myself why that should be the case I can't give any kind of rational explanation, and it throws the whole thing in doubt. Phil?"

"Yes, honey?"

"When did you know?" Anne asked, after a moment. "When did you know that Jonas cared, that you wouldn't be left loving him on your own?"

Phil looked at her, a little smile on her lips. "Oh. Well, I suppose it was not at a very promising moment. And not a romantic one, either."

"But you still knew?"

"I knew." Phil turned back to the ceiling, her voice thoughtful. "We were still at Point Place, as you remember, and a week before I was due to leave I offered to take Jonas out for tea, to say thank you for his kindness. And so I took him to a little tea room my Mother used to like. It was so fancy; I had loved it when I was a little girl." She combed her fingers through her bouncy chestnut curls with a sigh, and continued. "The waiters were terribly rude, and looked down their nose at us the whole time- I had told him how lovely I had always found it, and he assumed the difference was because of him. He didn't have a good suit on, you see. I didn't think to warn him that the waiters are often more dressed up than the patrons. Jo felt terrible, and I felt awful for how _he_ felt- and when we were walking back to the house, he said that he had to go quite suddenly. And then he said to me that with the right man, the tea room would again become a place of loveliness for me- that I deserved to be sitting with someone better than him."

Anne's eyes were sad. "Oh, Phil."

"Yes. He looked so devastated. Anne, you know how humble he is. And at Point Place I am a nobody, I'm not Philippa Gordon, the wealthy socialite. Father wants it that way. And to Jo, the tearooms represented the other version of myself, the one he couldn't possibly aspire to." she finished simply. "That was when I knew that he loved me."

Anne gave a happy sigh. "And how did you tell him that you loved him?"

Phil giggled. "I _may_ have been a little forward. I burst into tears on the side of the road, and threw my arms around him. I told him there was no better man than he was, and that I would happily never set foot in that place again, if it meant that I could love him."

Anne chuckled. "And what did _he_ do?"

Phil smiled cheekily. "Well, when the woman you love throws herself into your arms, the only thing he could do. He told me he cared for me as well."

"Did he kiss you then?"

"Oh, dearie, no. He didn't do that until _after_ he met my parents, wanting to be entirely respectful of them. Personally, I wish he _had_ kissed me." she said brazenly. "I wouldn't have minded at all."

Anne was silent at this, and Phil studied her pensive face. "Do you sometimes think about kissing Gilbert?" her friend asked carefully.

Anne hid her face in the soft fold of the scarf. Phil leaned up on one elbow, a huge grin on her face.

"I think your red face just answered that."

Anne sighed, not bothering to hide the slight smile at her involuntary confession. " _All the time_. Does that go away?" she asked, bewildered. "I mean, how do you get anything done?"

This made Phil laugh. "It gets easier when you actually _can_ kiss them. Just give it some time."

Anne fiddled with the scarf a little more, thinking. "I just don't know if he thinks about me that way. I know he used to, and it- well, it terrified me back then. _Now_ \- I just don't know. " She stopped, unsure how to go on.

Phil had determined she would leave that revelation to Gilbert himself; she wasn't going to interfere when Gilbert could reassure her so much more pleasantly. However, there was one more thing she felt she needed to address. She reached out and took Anne's hand in hers.

"Sweetie, you have had _so_ much to deal with in the last few months. And I couldn't be prouder of you for facing up to what Diana said. I don't think I would have done that so easily." Ignoring Anne's rather ironic laugh at the word ' _easily'_ , Phil continued gently. "I told you a long time ago that you had tricked your imagination about your own feelings, and- well, I think you're doing it now about _his_. Why are you so afraid to admit he might actually care for you?"

Anne's cheeks were pale, and she closed her eyes. The answer seemed to rise without effort.

"Because then it would become real. And it could break my heart completely." she said, her voice tortured.

To her surprise and indignation, Phil began to laugh at this.

"I'm so glad the idea brings you such amusement." Anne said crossly, sitting up and brushing the lose red hair around her face away. Phil caught her wrist, and sat up as well. Her brown eyes were warm as she regarded her beloved friend.

"Darling, I would never think that. I'm laughing because- well; don't you see, Anne? It's _always_ been real. The point of no return was reached years ago. You've been in love with him, and you've already _had_ your heart broken completely by him, not that either of you realised that at the time. You _know_ that. It's already happened, you can't choose to not step in now because you are afraid. There _is_ no worse to go through than what this last year has already been to the two of you. It's time to face the fact that he loves you." She pulled back with a grin. "And honestly, I think you're lucky he hasn't broken that supreme self-control of his yet and simply shown you exactly how he feels about you, whether you were ready for it or not."

Anne gave a dry chuckle, and she sighed. "It might have been easier if he _had_. At least we'd know where the other one stands by now." she muttered, making Phil laugh again.

"I have a feeling you'll know soon enough." She made to rise off the bed then, and Anne stood up as well.

"Phil- thank you." she said, her face pink. Phil put her arms around Anne, and hugged her tightly.

"Thank you for trusting me with it." she said with a little smile, and wiped an involuntary tear from the corner of her eye. "Oh goodness, this is silly- we have too much to do to get maudlin now. Priscilla wants to get started on everyone's hair in half an hour, so we need to start dressing." She swept out of the door, closing it behind her, and Anne turned to look at the brilliant emerald green dress.

Far more elaborate than anything she owned, she reverently ran her hand over the rich green skirt, with its paler green leaf-like embroidery on the bodice and hem. She smiled, remembering Phil's dismay and Diana's letter pleading for a _little_ bustle to be included in deference to the fashion of the day, however Anne had stood her ground. She wanted to be able to move in it properly, so the skirts were full and fell naturally from her slim waist.

Anne chuckled slightly. She had finally responded to Diana's letter; however, she knew her friend would not receive it until the following week. How strange, she mused. Kindred spirits, yet a necessary time delay between them. How much would she have to communicate to Diana when she next replied? All she had been able to say in the last letter was that she believed her to be correct. There had not seemed much else she _could_ say. Weather continued chilly; she would arrive home in four weeks' time, and yes, she probably was in love with Gilbert Blythe after all.

A parade of footsteps sounded outside her door, the voice of the girls echoing loudly through the halls. She smiled, but had no wish to give up her solitude so quickly. She crossed the little floor in a few quick strides to turn the lock. Carefully she got out of the blouse and skirt she wore, and then flopped back onto the bed in a way that would have completely scandalised Marilla.

It was time, Phil said.

Anne closed her eyes, pulling the knitted scarf up to her cheek. She sighed, forced to admit to herself that she had no idea how to handle this whatsoever. She was no flirt, and a decade of training had taught her to withhold her feelings from the boy who so affected her. She thought of Ruby with a tender smile. Beautiful Ruby, who had spent years teaching the Avonlea girls everything she knew about the courtship game; about moonlit walks, well composed speeches and dashing suiters who always knew what to do. What would she say now if she could see her old chum, caught in a dilemma as old as humanity itself? Would she have advice to give? Or would she simply tell her let herself fall, as Diana had? A knock came on her door then, and Anne roused herself with a slight grin. She would obviously need to puzzle this out later: she had a schedule to keep.

Half an hour later, she stood before her mirror, looking in astonishment at the way the skirt moved when she did. The swish of the taffeta was magical, and she smiled in pleasure at the full skirts, and forest like detailing along the skirt. She heard her door open behind her, and Stella entered in a deep red velvet dress that showed off her statuesque figure to perfection. She came to stand beside Anne with a big smile, and linked her arm through Anne's.

"Together my darling, we look like a poinsettia." Stella said dramatically. "People will think it nearly Christmas! Anne, Priss is ready for you, you're to be the first to have your hair done. She's got the chair ready for you in our room."

* * *

Sometime later, Gilbert came striding up Spottford Avenue in the crisp November evening, unable to prevent a nervous speed that had shaved ten minutes off his usual walking time. He was early now; however, he had hoped to wait in front of the fire instead of the front porch. He chuckled slightly at the nerves coursing through him now, trying to reason with himself. It was merely a simple outing, nothing to be worked up about.

Just a simple evening… with complex social rules, constant performance in front of large crowds- and he was the favoured escort to the woman he was hopelessly in love with, with whom he had yet to have that particular conversation. He knocked on the front door smartly, hoping that his nerves wouldn't show too badly.

Aunt Jimsie welcomed him inside warmly, with a slightly reproving "You _are_ very early, Gilbert."

He smiled foolishly. "I- er- I guess I just made good time on my way here. May I come in and wait?"

"Well, Mr Blake will be here soon enough, you can get warm and let him in, and wait down here for the girls to ready themselves. I must go and see where that niece of mine is." She clucked impatiently, and headed upstairs. Gilbert stood in front of the fire, removing his winter coat and gloves.

He heard a step on the staircase, and a soft "Gil!" he turned, and his greeting seemed to disappear as he watched Anne cross the room in the most beautiful gown he had ever seen her in. Wordlessly he reached for her hands as she came near, and he simply stared at her, his mouth agape. Moments passed, and all he could do was look expressively at her.

"Why yes, Gilbert; I do look charming." she said brightly, and he was so surprised by her teasing that he laughed aloud. He finally shook his head, clasping her hands tightly in his. He stepped back to view her again, and gave her a grin.

"You're- you're stunning, Anne. I mean, I knew you would be, but this- _this_ -"

"Dress?" she supplied cheekily.

"Yes, the dress, and then the _rest_ -" by this point he mastered himself enough to stop babbling, although his grin remained firmly in place.

Anne's eyelashes had fluttered down, and she pulled her hands from his with pink cheeks. She stepped over to the gilt edged mirror over the fireplace to check the pins Priscilla had carefully placed in there. She had swept the hair back from her face with combs becomingly, pinning them up high and allowing the red curls to fall naturally from the back. In the mirror she could see Gilbert smiling at her, and she turned back to him mischievously.

"You need to stop looking at me like that!" she said to him in an undertone. "You'll have my cheeks as red as my hair all night."

"And we wouldn't want that." he said dryly, and sighed. "You just look beautiful." he finally said succinctly, and she gave him a smile that caused untold damage to his composure. He stooped to the little lounge to pick up a little bunch of snowdrops. He handed them to her with a proud smile. "You told me you were wearing green, so I thought these would be perfect."

Anne gave him a big smile, and accepted them with tears in her eyes. Gilbert was pleased with her reaction, but his face took on a depreciating look.

"They aren't hothouse flowers or anything, Mrs Saunders grows them on the balcony in pots. I asked her if I could cut some for you for tonight, and she got very excited." he said, his cheeks flushing.

Anne impulsively threw her arms around him, and squeezed him as she used to when they were younger, making him laugh.

"They are absolutely perfect and I love them." she said, beaming up at him.

The girls came trooping down the stairs then, and he released her, but then bent in close.

"Anne? Did you still want to come back here early?" he asked, his eyes meeting her own questioningly.

She shyly reached up to adjust his white tie and crisp collar with gentle fingers, and before the other girls surrounded them, she looked up at him and nodded. She heard Jo's knock then, and there was a brief flurry of cloaks and gloves as they got ready to walk out the door all together. Gilbert and Anne waited until the others walked down the stairs, and in the doorway he pulled the hood of her cloak carefully over her red curls. Taking her gloved hand in his, he held it to his lips for a brief moment, and then grinned at her mischievously.

"Well, come on Miss Shirley. The ball won't wait for just anyone, you know."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The Hannerford Ball was traditionally one of the biggest events in the Redmond calendar, to which all students and faculty were invited. It was held every year in Redmond's famous Grand Ballroom, and included all those who sat on the periphery of the great college. Hannerford was reputedly one of the founders of the university; however, no one could state that with reliable certainty after almost a century. What _was_ certain was the fact that everyone who was able to attend usually did.

The excited party from Patty's place walked up the wide stone stairs and into the brightly lit rooms, with its polished oak floor underfoot. They had arrived in time to hear the sound of the orchestra tuning up, and the ladies disappeared into the spacious dressing rooms to complete their toilette. Fastidious musicians outside in the hall tightened strings, adjusted sheet music and collars, and looked with interest at the ladies and gentlemen gathering in the old hall. Enormous chandeliers hung at intervals on the ornate ceiling, and high stained glass windows hung on all sides of the columned room.

Whilst the ladies were occupied in the dressing room, Gilbert and Jonas chatted sociably nearby. Gilbert had readily found a kindred spirit in Phil's Jonas, and the two of them often found themselves turning in together to the gate of the little house on Spottford Avenue. Gilbert had observed Jonas' eye on him whenever Anne and he were in the room together, with a knowing little smile that was mirrored by Phil's. He had grinned back a little foolishly. Of course, another man in love could see what was going on. He wasn't even pretending to hide it anymore. Could Anne see it? She _had_ to by now, surely?

Gilbert's thoughts were interrupted when he saw the ladies coming out of the dressing rooms. His smile was huge as he walked to Anne's side proudly, and he looked at her under the electric lights of the big room. Her copper curls shone against her milky-white skin, and Gilbert found himself having to divert his thoughts from how wonderfully the emerald gown and the little locket she wore showed off her figure. He took a deep breath, and she put her arm through his with what he knew to be a slightly nervous smile.

He bent down to whisper in her ear, regardless of the etiquette police all around him. "Anne, stop looking like you want to run!"

She chuckled, however he could see he had judged correctly. She looked up at him rather wistfully.

"You aren't worried about the gossip-mongers?" she asked. Gilbert put his other hand over hers, his frank hazel eyes holding hers.

"No. And might I remind you that Anne Shirley is _more_ than equal to stand up to petty and malicious gossip. Nothing anyone can say can harm you, and I'm right here." He looked at her searchingly to make sure she understood.

Anne sighed, knowing he was right. Rumours had never bothered her before, and she knew that it was nothing she could control. She tucked herself in beside Gilbert, determined to enjoy the night for his sake- Gilbert who had so been looking forward to this evening. And in the past, they had always had fun at the dances they had attended together.

While her thoughts were thus occupied, she felt someone pluck at her dance card and found Gilbert looking at her mischievously, a pencil in one hand.

"So tell me, Miss Shirley; just how presumptuous may I be tonight?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "How presumptuous do you want to be?" she countered quietly.

"Oh, very." He bent down so he couldn't be overheard by anyone. "For starters, I believe the first really is my duty to occupy as your escort, as well as the one immediately before supper."

She smiled. "You are correct, sir."

"And I would suppose the one right _after_ supper just makes sense." he said thoughtfully.

Anne laughed. "Right again."

"However, if we _also_ want to leave early, I should probably also occupy the last few dances to avoid disappointing anyone." He looked at her lovingly, and she gave a contented sigh.

"I would like that very much, Gilbert."

He then turned to the ladies of Patty's place and courteously asked for each of their hands for a dance as well. Phil had caught sight of Anne's card and was still laughing at it when the signal came for the first dance.

Gilbert took Anne's hand in his and with his heart thundering, he led her to the floor to take her in his arms. His hand on her waist, her hand on his shoulder and her eyes directly on his. He forced himself to breathe as he began to lead her around the room in big sweeps. She was here- she was with _him_! How had his luck changed that she would even be looking at him like that?

For Anne, the rest of the ballroom fell away as soon as she was in his arms. Whatever the gossips might say, whatever venomous looks she was receiving from Gilbert's admirers, he was with her and she felt _safe_. She looked up to see him watching her with a slight smile.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

He shrugged, his look content. "I'm glad I'm here with you," he said simply, and Anne felt her cheeks warm. She sighed and drew slightly closer to him- something that brought an even bigger smile to his face.

Phil was nearby with Jonas, and she gave a sigh of exasperation as she watched Anne and Gilbert dancing together.

"Honestly, that pair…" she said impatiently.

Jo quirked an eyebrow at her. "What? They look happy enough to me." He said with a smile.

Phil rolled her eyes. "Jo dear, you must admit it would be better if they were a _little_ more discrete about the way they feel. The whole ballroom can practically see it."

Jo gave a little shrug. "As long as they actually talk to each other about it at some point, I see no harm." He grinned then. "Even I didn't wait that long."

Phil's smile was tender. "For which I am eternally grateful."

Meanwhile, Gilbert was making Anne laugh again, discussing the lead up to the evening.

"… and so Charlie took _my_ jacket from Mrs Saunders by mistake and began storming around the third floor saying that his tailor had made a mistake and that he would head around there immediately to demand his cheque back. Mrs Saunders spoke to him quite crossly then, and told him to cease his stomping, and to go to his room until she had straightened the mess out." He chuckled then. "With Charlie removed it was sorted remarkably easily." He swung her elegantly in a circle to complete the figure, with a big smile.

Anne's eyes twinkled. "Well, he and Dear Nicole look most content now."

Gilbert turned to see his old friend parading his beloved down the columned hall ostentatiously, and Nicole valiantly trying to keep up with his lanky stride. They had both found her to be a sensible, friendly girl, albeit with a blind spot their fortunate friend seemed to have fallen into.

"Yes, I think she will be accepted into the House of Sloane quite happily." Gilbert mused. "Charlie's mother was bragging about her as much as _he_ was at Diana's wedding."

Anne laughed. "Yes, Mrs Peter made sure I knew how fortunate Dear Nicole was to have landed her son that night." Her hand moved off his shoulder for a moment, caressing his collar without conscious thought. "You do look very handsome Gilbert, Mrs Saunders did a wonderful job getting you all ready for tonight."

He laughed incredulously. "Anne Shirley, I have been getting myself dressed for a long time now. What makes you think it wasn't me?"

She smiled at him cheekily. "I know you had help with the tie at least."

He grinned at her then. "Alright, I concede that point. How did you know?"

"I often used to re-tie your tie when we would go to these events in our Freshman and Sophomore year," she said thoughtfully. "You find it tricky with your long fingers." Her hand moved back to his shoulder, and the said long fingers closed around hers tightly. Gilbert sighed contentedly. Little by little, they were connecting their time together over the year of separation, and he was finding that it was even beginning to fade in his own mind.

The first dance eventually came to a conclusion. He clasped her hand in his, and they walked slowly off the floor back to the seats.

"And this is where I have to hand you over to someone else." he said, looking at her regretfully.

Anne smiled. "You know you aren't allowed to give all of your time to me, Gil. It isn't fair to any of the other young ladies who might wish to dance with you."

He narrowed his eyes at her, a charming grin on his face. "As long as you are leaving here with me tonight, I will do what I am required to. And who is claiming you next?"

"Oh, just an old school friend." she said innocently.

"Oh? Someone I need to be desperately jealous of?"

"Moody. He and Charlie have both reserved a dance." Anne smiled at him teasingly. "And neither of them have reserved _five_ dances with anyone, like someone else I know."

Gilbert had yet to release her hand. "And do you regret my impertinence, Miss Shirley?" he said in a low voice that sent shivers up her spine.

Anne's eyes faltered, and she was looking at their entwined hands as she answered him, a blush staining her pale cheeks.

"Nooo- no, I'm really quite glad of it, to be honest," she said slowly. She looked at him then to see the huge smile spreading on his face. Anne had not realised they had arrived, and was startled to find herself amongst the other girls again and Moody had come to stand beside her. Gilbert turned then to offer Priscilla his arm, and unbeknownst to Anne, a big sigh left her as he did so. A laugh at her side brought her to herself, and she blushed then in shame.

"Oh Moody, I am so sorry for my rudeness-"

"Don't be. It's good to finally see the two of you get to this point," he said philosophically, much to her astonishment.

He took her hand with a confidence she had never seen in him at school or at Queens, or at the many functions at home where they had danced together. He would never be comfortable on the dance floor, however here with his old friend and others close by, Moody felt much closer to home. Anne chuckled then and chatted with him blithely about his plans for his last year, which would be completed the year after her own Convocation. Moody was well set on the path his mother had chosen for him and had surprisingly found his own little niche in the Theology department. His evenings were spent arguing eschatology and exegetical study with his colleagues, and he was contented. He thought then that if he could find someone who looked at him the way Anne looked at Gilbert Blythe, it would fulfil all his wishes for a happy life.

Several dances were over when Anne finally sat down for a rest, and she sat watching the other dancers contentedly with Stella, also on a break. Phil and Jonas were gamely still going, and Anne smiled at the picture they made together. Jo watched Phil so adoringly, and she seemed to be floating on air with her big crooked smile.

Gilbert was dancing then with a young woman she knew by sight only, presumably from one of the courses they took together. Anne was decidedly uncomfortable with the level of jealousy she was feeling and was doing everything she could to distract herself in conversation. Stella was at her most lively and had succeeded in making Anne laugh, but then both ladies were startled as a shadow fell over them. Anne looked up to see Royal Gardner.

"Are you engaged for this dance?" he asked, in a low tone.

Anne smiled uncomfortably but answered him quietly in the negative.

"Would you care to dance with me?"

She looked up into eyes that were guarded but kind, and nodded. "Thank you, Roy, that would be lovely."

Anne felt the eyes of the room on her, as they walked awkwardly onto the floor. She lifted her arms into position, flinching slightly as he placed his hand on her waist. She looked across to where Gilbert was dancing, who was conversing with his partner comfortably. Roy moved them around the room flawlessly, his face as handsome and melancholy as the old hero of her dreams had been. His dark hair was brushed back from his face, and sad blue eyes looking off into the distance.

"Roy, you didn't have to ask me to dance if it was uncomfortable for you," Anne said softly, after a minute.

"No, I wanted to. We often had inspiring conversations on the dance floor, didn't we?" he said slowly, and Anne responded with a genuine smile.

"We did."

After a moment, he spoke again. "If I am to be completely honest, I also wished to put an end to some rumours flying around that we had a public altercation." Anne looked up at him in consternation, and Roy gave a look of chagrin. "Apparently you threw a cup of tea in my face after an intense and very public verbal disagreement that did _not_ occur," he added.

Anne's face flushed. "Yes, the rumour mill is a little busy right now."

He looked down at her gently. "I don't mean to imply that I would not ask you otherwise, however perhaps it would be of assistance to both of us to refute the idea of an antagonistic and violent separation."

Anne looked at his face and smiled. "It might be prudent. And we are classmates, after all."

"Exactly. How did you find Professor Tremaine's dissertation on the poetry of the Americas?"

Anne smiled warmly. "I found it very interesting. I thought that it showed a glimpse of a very different world. It's almost like travelling to read from other cultures. Arthur Franklin Fuller's _California_ made me feel as if I had seen it for myself."

Roy gave her the velvety smile she remembered. "It is very like, in fact. I have seen the lines that run as 'spider webs'." he commented.

The rest of the dance they talked amiably of classes, and when they were finished Roy escorted her to the side.

"I believe your escort will be joining you soon. It was enjoyable to catch up for a short time."

He bowed to her then and walked away. Anne walked to a window to catch her breath and gather her scattered thoughts. She was glad to see that Roy was no longer angry, although it grieved her to know what people had conjectured about the two of them. She sighed then. No one would accuse Roy of such undignified behaviour; however, for the girl who was known to break slates over people's heads, it would appear to be quite plausible.

She heard a step behind her then and turned to meet Gilbert's anxious hazel eyes. She gave a little sigh of relief and smiled up at him. He relaxed then and took her hand.

"Are you up for the last dance before supper, Miss Shirley?" he asked lightly. She nodded, and as they moved to the floor, she blinked back tears from her eyes.

He pulled her in close and as they began to move he bent in to speak softly.

"Are you alright?"

She gave him a big smile then. "Yes, I'm fine."

Gilbert looked at her piercingly. "He didn't say anything he shouldn't have?"

Anne gave him a quick rundown on what they had discussed and then gave a relieved sigh. "I'm only glad he isn't angry with me anymore. English classes will be much more comfortable now."

"I didn't hear about the tea throwing one, I have to admit." he commented with a laugh.

Anne chuckled. "You mean you heard about others?" She didn't see the uncomfortable look that crossed his face then and she continued. " _Now_ you know why I wasn't looking forward to being here tonight. I've already heard some scandalous things this week, and in the dressing rooms tonight."

"Oh?" he asked lightly.

She shook her head at him, smiling. "I don't want to dignify them by repeating them. None of them are what you could call 'lovely or of good report'. I'd rather just be with you." Anne said with a little sigh, and Gilbert couldn't resist pulling her a little closer, his heart beating hard. Tonight would be the night. He grinned slightly as they moved together. He had to talk to her soon, or he was going to do something incredibly, incredibly stupid. For now, though, he was content to hold her, content to feel her skirts swirl past his legs distractingly and the smooth warmth of her waist under his hand.

He'd watched Roy approach, and he'd been hard pressed to return Megan's earnest enquiries about the Biology paper they had to submit the following week. Miserably aware of Anne's face in the distance, looking so pale at first but gaining colour as she and Roy danced. He spoke to himself sternly even as he spoke of neurones and dendrites with Megan. Anne had _refused_ him. She was not with him now, and she was- well, she was with him, wasn't she?

The dance was one he knew well and he was devoutly grateful for that fact. As they walked through the movements with the serious-faced young lady, his mind was working furiously. He hadn't told Anne that he loved her yet- hadn't that been the big mistake last time? Surely her mind was working along with his, _surely_ she understood him. It had dawned on him as he watching her dance with other gentlemen, that he did not have forever- they had only a few more months together after the Christmas break- a few more months and he would be back at Redmond continuing his studies. Where could she be by then?

As he gently moved them now, he looked down at Anne's face, so close to the shoulder her hand rested on. He stroked gentle fingers against the bodice of her dress and found himself becoming more and more distracted by the smell of her hair. Then she looked up at him, and he almost stopped moving altogether. Her wide grey eyes were on his, and he felt the quick breath lifting her breast so close to his own. Mere seconds from pulling her even closer and through a dreamlike fog he saw Phil gesturing him furiously from where she and Jo were dancing nearby.

Gilbert came to with a small gasp, and his face flushed as he realised how close he had come to kissing her on the crowded ballroom floor. Phil shook her head at him knowingly before waltzing away with Jo, and he grinned guiltily.

Anne was in a similar state, and when Gilbert murmured 'I almost forgot where we were," she nodded, almost paralysed.

The dance proceeded with Gilbert trying valiantly to maintain an appropriate distance from the girl he loved. Anne felt similarly taken aback, and then something made her smile as she looked around the ornate ballroom.

"This isn't really our scene, is it?" she said in a thoughtful voice.

Gilbert looked at her then, remembering with some insecurity Christine's little jibes. "I'm not playing the society gentleman well enough?" he asked lightly.

Anne swatted him then. "You know what I mean, Gilbert. You are a _born_ gentleman. I only meant that this formality isn't really us- the pretence and the show. It's beautiful for a time, but it would never satisfy either of us to live this way."

He relaxed then, recognising that seeing Roy had put him on edge more than he would have expected. And he supposed it was natural for her to consider all of this now- this would have become her life had she stayed with him. Forgetting the room, he held her closely then.

"No, it's not for us. Give me a real life any day," he said honestly.

Anne smiled and then unexpectedly froze for the tiniest moment. Gilbert looked down at her in surprise, wondering what had caught her eye. She took a deep breath and then got into step with him easily.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"Christine," she said, giving him an artificial smile. "I didn't know she was here."

Gilbert looked in the direction Anne was facing and saw her standing there, watching them both intently.

"Ah. Doesn't that look like fun," he said, with a grin as he turned back.

Anne narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh yes, a lot of fun. You aren't the one she is glaring murderously at."

"I'd almost prefer it if she was," he muttered, making her laugh again.

The dance ended then, and Gilbert lifted her hand to his lips briefly, not caring who was watching. He grinned at her then.

"Well, Anne, it's been an interesting night so far. Want to see how many scrapes we can get into before we leave everyone else here behind?" he asked, and then he led her laughingly off the floor for supper.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Christine Stuart stood watching the crowds from the arm of a young man of more fashion than good sense. Bryce Waters was of impeccable breeding and looked well in his immaculate tails, however her eyes were narrowed dangerously at one of the couples on the dance floor. Gossip never missed her door, so she knew what was happening with Gilbert and that wretched Anne Shirley before _they_ did. She scowled as Bryce beckoned her over to talk to yet another male chum of his, both as brash and brainless as each other.

It really had been better with Gilbert, she thought disgustedly. Fashionable or not, at least _he_ was the consummate gentleman. She looked at him now, and an ugly look crossing her face as she caught the intimate glance between him and the redhead. _So_ inappropriate! He never looked at her like that. What on earth could he see in the freckled, insignificant looking girl?

As the music drew to a close, she watched them exit the floor with a cool look. She had refused to fill her dance card, expecting Gilbert to request her hand at some point. To find him so oblivious was frankly infuriating- however, _no_ was an answer she did not usually put up with. She would not be putting up with it tonight.

Oblivious to the glares coming from across the room, Gilbert walked out to the supper rooms with Anne, Priscilla, and Stella. Stella was talking with a gentleman from one of Gilbert's classes, who had asked to be introduced to the vivid, intelligent young lady. Gilbert did so with great aplomb, and Anne's eyes twinkled at him. She could see that Stella was quite pleased, not that the nervous young man could determine that yet. Phil and Jo were already sitting down, and Gilbert and Anne found a seat nearby. As the supper continued the two of them talked quietly, content to be in each other's company. When the little bell sounded Anne excused herself to go to the dressing rooms to freshen up with the other girls.

The big, curtained room fluttered with energy, with girls running between mirrors like brightly coloured butterflies. Anne was standing in front of a small mirror fixing her hair when she heard a step behind her. She had expected Phil or Stella, however, she when she turned it was to face a smiling Christine. Anne took a deep breath, her chin lifting slightly.

"It's nice to see you, Miss Stuart. You look particularly lovely this evening," she said, as calmly as she could manage. Christine smiled, with all of those perfect white teeth showing- like a shark, Anne thought distractedly. Christine had chosen a deep blue dress, with an even deeper neckline. She showed off her ample chest confidently, and a dismayed Anne had to stop herself from comparing herself to the buxom woman in front of her.

"You as well, Anne. I believe green is a colour few people truly get away with; however, you seem to manage it fairly well."

Luckily at that moment, Anne suddenly smiled. Josie's little digs over the years had given her a measure of control when listening to veiled insults, and she clearly saw Gilbert's admiring eyes looking at her in front of the little fire at Patty's Place.

"I enjoyed watching the little performance you and Gilbert were putting on for the benefit of the crowd, dear. He appears to be quite taken with you," Christine said sweetly.

Anne, who by this point had had enough of the polite facade, put down the little bag she carried and turned back to face her.

"Is there something you wish to say to me, Christine?" she asked pleasantly.

The smile vanished, and Christine sized her up with narrowed eyes. "If you think that you have any hope of keeping him, you are mistaken," she said softly. "He isn't destined for the mediocrity of your beloved Island, unlike the rest of you. He needs someone who can help him to unlock his true potential."

"I would think that was up to Gilbert, and no one else," Anne said, composedly.

Christine laughed. "You can think like that if you want- but it isn't true. Remember that he and I had a year together, while you were busy playing the adoring sweetheart to Roy. In this world you need connection, you need influence. You couldn't offer him that. _I_ can, and he knows that."

Anne felt her old temper rising underneath the surface, but she suddenly looked at the woman before her clearly. Christine couldn't influence Gilbert; she could only try to bait _her_. And she wouldn't play along.

"Christine, whether you can understand this or not, one of the advantages of growing up on the Island, is that you become very well acquainted with the people who surround you." Anne said coolly. "If you really understood the Blythe family; if you knew who they were and what they stand for, you would know that they won't accept a handout from anyone. A Blythe can't be bought, or persuaded into anything they don't want. And they work harder for what they want than anyone else." Anne's eyes pierced Christine's. "If you truly wanted his best, you would support him in anything he chose to do- you wouldn't be trying to remake him into something of your own invention."

Christine's hostility was nakedly obvious on her face now, and she moved directly in front of Anne to block her path.

"And _you_ are not his keeper, Miss Shirley. You may have favour in the little place you come from, but don't imagine you are anything special away from there," she said, her violet eyes sparkling venomously. "And if you think the girl who wasted her first chance with a man ever gets another, you are pathetically, _tragically_ mistaken. He knows what you did to Roy. _I_ made sure of that. He's far too smart to allow you the chance to break his heart again as well."

Anne's face was pale, however she met Christine's eyes unflinchingly. "Gilbert's happiness is more important to me than anything. And I can assure you that _his_ is the only voice I would ever listen to in regard to that." With that comment, and with her head held high she swept her emerald skirts past a seething Christine and walked towards the entrance of the ballroom quickly.

* * *

On the other side of the door, the room whirled with dancers, and Anne stopped as soon as she was out of sight of the dressing room doors. She closed her eyes, feeling as if something inside her was spinning as well, and tried to regain her poise. She opened them to see Gilbert himself crossing to meet her, and could not hide the look of relief at the sight of him. His hand was in hers then, and she gripped it tightly.

"What is it? Are you alright?" he asked her quickly. Anne's jaw had set firmly, and she merely shook her head.

"Could we sit this dance out, please?" she asked, her face taut.

Gilbert looked at her speculatively, and over her shoulder saw Christine exiting the dressing room, her face hard. Putting two and two together, he decided some fresh air would be a good idea.

"I think you are a little flushed, Miss Shirley. How about a quick turn outside?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he pulled her towards the front doors and out into the darkness.

As soon as they were away from the lights of the entrance, he turned to her.

"What did she say to you?" he asked, his eyes furious. Her eyes were at their greenest, and she met his evenly.

"Nothing that was true," she said in a quiet voice. "I know that. However I think I am better to be out here for a short time where I can't give her the satisfaction of seeing that she got to me."

Gilbert took her hands in his. "So she did upset you?"

Anne took a deep breath then. He was looking at her steadily, and his presence was calming. "It shouldn't. But it's been a long time since I have had anyone speaking to me like that. In fact I would probably date it back to the orphanage."

Gilbert had heard enough and wrapped her in his arms. She didn't cry as he thought she might and with a smile, he realised he was beginning to see again the indomitable spirit he remembered in her as she faced Mr. Phillips.

"I told you that you were stronger than anything they could dish out." he whispered into her hair.

She laughed a little then. "I don't know about that, Gil. But I _do_ know you. She can't make me doubt that."

He pulled away then, his eyes regretful. "We don't have to stay. Do you want to leave now?"

Anne's chin came up. "No, I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. You and I have another dance now, and then there are a few more after that, and we will leave as planned." she said firmly.

Gilbert grinned at her. "That's my girl."

* * *

The first of the dances was only just beginning, and he led her back out onto the floor easily. He could still see Christine watching him across the room, and pulled Anne a little closer to himself.

Gilbert's mind was drawn to all of the times he had escorted her to such events, times where he had been grateful for any time spent with her, where he was eaten up with jealousy towards those who dared to ask her for a second. He kept his eyes on her alone and told himself he would never let it happen to them again.

When the dance was over, he walked her to the edge of the room to wait for her next partner, one of the Juniors in the English class. He handed Anne over to Aaron with a slight bow. The younger man took her hand with a nervous glance at Gilbert, and he sent them off with an amused smile. He saw Christine still scanning the room, and tightened his lips stubbornly. Wishing to avoid her, he stepped behind a crowd of people passing, and out the front doors again into the night, into the fresh air. Gilbert walked to the circle of trees in the courtyard and tried to gather the wits that fled anytime Anne was near.

It was with a shock that he realised he was not alone. Another man was standing with a cigar under the trees as well- Roy Gardener. Gilbert halted uncomfortably. He hadn't spoken to him since the incident in the library and had no plans to enter into another argument with the man.

"Blythe."

"Roy." he returned with a nod.

There was a long silence, and Gilbert was wondering if it would be impolite to simply return inside without another word when he spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me it was you?" Roy said slowly.

Gilbert froze, and Roy gave a sardonic laugh. "I told you, this has happened to me before. There's _always_ been someone else. I just didn't think it would be you. I didn't see it until earlier tonight."

Gilbert sighed. He folded his arms then and met his gaze evenly. "I'm sorry, Roy. I realise it looks like I came between you and Anne. But I didn't." Roy waited for the usual denial he had come to expect. "The truth is you came between _us_." Roy looked at him sharply, his cigar forgotten.

"You wouldn't have had any idea, it wasn't your fault, or hers- if it's anyone's fault it was _mine._ " Gilbert said, his voice tight. "You probably don't want to hear this, but I have loved Anne since we were children. She didn't see that though, to her I was her best friend, just as she was mine. Nearly two years ago I did something incredibly stupid, and I lost her completely. I have paid for that mistake every day." Roy saw Gilbert struggle to keep going at this point, and watched him curiously.

He then fixed Roy with a penetrating look. "The _only_ thing that happened when we were at home is that Anne and I talked for the first time in well over a year. I know her- she hasn't been herself for a long time. That wasn't about you. That was to do with me, to do with us. I'm sorry you were hurt, I'm sorry this whole mess happened. But I love her- and if she so chooses, I will be by her side always."

Roy was completely silent for long minutes, struggling with the anger he knew would serve no purpose anymore. He shouldn't have been moved by the other man's words, he should have been furious at the slight to himself. He'd seen it when the fellow walked Anne to the floor at the beginning of the night- she looked at Gilbert in a way that he did not recognise. They had spent a year together, and he only now saw how love looked on her face, as it had never done for him. He had asked Anne to dance, wanting to observe her more closely- and she was exactly as she had always been around him. Kind, sweet, however without the love he saw burning in her grey eyes for the young man in front of him now. She didn't belong to him, and he saw that she never had. It was time to let go.

Finally, Roy let out a big sigh. He turned to Gilbert, his blue eyes piercing, even in the darkness. "I'm only asking this for my sake, but I want to know that you were a gentleman- that you didn't do anything to take her from me. I need to know it wasn't like every other time." he said, his voice hard.

Gilbert met his eye unflinchingly. "I didn't. You have my word."

Roy extinguished the cigar butt on the ground under his elegant shoes. He looked at Gilbert guardedly.

"I would like to remain on friendly terms with her if you don't object."

Gilbert chuckled, much to Roy's surprise. "That's entirely up to her, I'm afraid. It's not my call. However, I do know she was pleased that you were both able to talk again."

Roy gave a slight smile. "As was I." Gilbert turned to go, and Roy stopped him with a few words. "You have _my_ word that I won't come between the two of you," he said, his eyes cool.

Gilbert looked at him searchingly. "I know you won't."

He nodded at Roy then and walked back up the stairs to the ballroom. He needed to see her again, to reassure himself that this bizarre night was indeed happening. More than anything else though, he thought with a twisted smile, he really _needed_ to talk to her tonight.

* * *

Anne was still on the dance floor with Aaron, who had finally managed to find his tongue and was talking animatedly. Gilbert turned to find a seat near Priscilla and Phil, who were talking nearby quietly, and as he did so an unpleasant wave of perfume hit his nostrils. He turned to find Christine herself at his elbow, sitting in the vacant seat between Gilbert and the other girls.

"Well, Gilbert Blythe," she said in her too-sweet voice. "I have been waiting for an opportunity to dance with the most handsome of the young men here. Surely the precious Miss Shirley can spare you a dance or two, seeing she is well occupied with another."

Gilbert could clearly see the girls had stopped to listen from their lounge, and both faces held an identical expression of loathing on them.

"I'm engaged for the rest of the night, Christine." he stated in a firm voice.

Phil's voice came from the other side, and she appeared to be scrutinising her dance card.

"Oh, I _am_ glad you remembered Gilbert; I believe my next is with you."

"Hmm, and mine after that. Dear me, Gilbert, when will you get a rest?" Priscilla added, her blue eyes wide.

Christine's mouth thinned. "And what of the two after that?" she said with a brittle smile. "Surely you haven't booked your whole evening up so early."

"Well, those belong to Anne." Gilbert said, his voice logical.

Christine's eyes were cold. "So the rumours _are_ true then. Does this mean you no longer recognise your old friends?"

"Well, I have no intention of maintaining a friendship with someone who would speak to Anne in such a disrespectful fashion. She means too much to me, to let you hurt her," he said frankly.

Christine stood then, with a look of rage on her face that shocked Gilbert. Not bothering to keep her voice down in front of the two girls, she leaned down and spoke to Gilbert viciously.

"I hope she destroys you," she spat; and turned from him to stalk across the crowded room alone.

"Well _really,_ " Phil said, watching her go in disgust.

Priscilla grabbed his arm with glee as soon as she was far enough away.

"Gilbert Blythe, I have never been so proud of anyone before!" she exclaimed. "It's about time someone did that."

He grinned sheepishly. "Yes, but do you realise you just sentenced yourselves to another dance with me? Have you double booked yourselves?"

"Not me." Priss said cheerfully.

Phil laughed. "Well, you may as well, you can't dance with Anne yet. Jo needs a break, he ran off to fetch us some water. I'm sure he will be happy to lend a hand- or _my_ hand- for the cause of true love."

Anne was pleased to see Gilbert there when Aaron brought her back slightly winded, and she took the seat beside him happily. She could only laugh when Phil dragged him to his feet, and he grinned down at her murmuring " _What_ a thing it is to be popular…"

He strode out to the floor with her just as a bemused Jo returned with the cups of water.

"I didn't know they had another dance." he said, sitting down with a sigh.

Priscilla accepted the water with thanks. "Oh, they didn't. We're just saving him from Christine." she said airily. She saw Anne tense and grinned. "Don't worry. She's gone off in a huff, and thanks to Gilbert, she won't be back."

Meanwhile, out under the electric lights Phil and Gilbert were continuing the conversation.

"I can't believe you never knew she was like that," Phil asked, disbelievingly.

Gilbert frowned. "Do you think I would have accompanied her about if I _did_ know? Give me some credit, Phil. She didn't act like that then."

"Unless she felt threatened. Ask any woman on campus."

Gilbert sighed in exasperation. "Look, she seemed like a nice-ish girl. Someone I could spend some time with, without any risk of attachment. Ronald was a good sort of fellow, and so was their older brother. I thought she was safe."

Phil laughed then, and Gilbert reluctantly grinned as well. "Alright, perhaps I wasn't in the best frame of mind to judge." he conceded.

"No. However you are doing much better _now_." Phil gave him a poke then. "And by the way, just what were you _thinking_ when you were dancing with her out there?" she scolded in a low voice. "It looked like you were about to-"

Gilbert groaned. "I know, I know- I just forgot where we were. _You_ try bottling up your feelings for a decade and let me know how _you_ go."

Phil looked at him searchingly. "Gilbert, just talk to her."

"I will be."

" _Before_ Christmas."

"I will." he said impatiently.

" _When_ exactly?" and then she suddenly gripped his hand hard. " _Tonight_? Are you going to talk to her tonight?" she squealed in excitement.

Gilbert looked over to where Anne was talking with Jonas and Priscilla. "Would you keep your voice down?" he implored. "Look, we're leaving after the next dance."

Phil quirked an eyebrow. "You are? Why?" she asked, making Gilbert laugh again.

"Keep up, Phil. We just wanted to leave early to have some time to ourselves." he said candidly.

She chuckled. "Which explains the last two dances, I suppose."

Gilbert looked smug at that bit of planning. "Exactly."

Phil shook her head. "Well, Jo will see Priscilla, Stella and I home."

"I know. I already spoke to him about that," he said, with a grin at her surprised face. "I don't forget my responsibilities."

Gilbert bowed to her courteously at the end of the set, and Phil looked at him with an amused smile. "Well, I don't believe you will need it, but good luck."

He grinned at her as he handed her to Jo, and took his place by Anne's side once more. She looked tired, but smiled at him contentedly. Gilbert observed a whispered conversation between a giggling Phil and Priss and was startled when Priscilla spoke up theatrically.

"Gilbert, would you mind terribly if I sat our next dance out? I know we had arranged it so; however, I find myself strangely tired. Funny, it came on so suddenly." she said innocently.

Gilbert looked at Anne then. She was sitting on the chaise, dreamily watching the rainbows forming on the chandeliers above. She gave him a smile he remembered from days of old- the one that told him she was dreaming, that she was happy. Her eyes were on his, and then he leaned in to whisper something to her. She flushed and nodded when he pulled back to look her in the eyes. He took her hand with a little smile, and after a quick farewell they left for the cloakroom, with eyes only for each other.

The squealing that erupted from Phil and Priscilla as they left made the bewildered Jo jump, and he could only smile in chagrin at the bemused expressions of the people around two inexplicably euphoric girls.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

The November night sky sparkled with starlight. Above the darkness of the tree line, little bursts of white and yellow light met in a glad scattering, and as Anne breathed the cool clear air, she thought she could trace a few faint blue stars twinkling in the distance like tiny diamonds.

Walking along in an exhilarated silence with Anne's hand in his, Gilbert found every thought of his had scattered; replaced with an expectancy that was almost unbearable in its intensity. As they walked the streets, fragmented conversations they had shared flitted past him, along with all of the words he had ever thought he would say to Anne.

Would she understand him? Would she see his heart, and would it make her afraid? Did she feel for him the way he thought she did, or was it too soon? Perhaps she was content as things were. A chill came over him as they turned into the little gate, and he spied in the distance the old orchard in which he had unwittingly destroyed them both. With cold hands he watched her open the little door, his breath coming unevenly.

There was a part of him that had expected this- that knew he would always be coming back to this precipice. And as Gilbert stood with her on the front steps of Patty's Place, he thought distractedly of going- of putting off the moment, to somehow keep living in this strange and beautiful limbo with her just a little longer. Then she turned to him and his heart gave an almost painful leap. He wasn't imagining the softness in her eyes or the way she was waiting for him. He held the door for her and followed her resolutely into the little house.

Anne had not expected him to be so silent and wondered what he was thinking. There was a burning in his eyes that she refused to conjecture about, one that made her wonder how they had stayed at the dance as long as they had. He closed the door behind them and turned to take her cloak off with gentle hands. He laid it across the back of the sofa with a little smile, and her heart began to pound as he removed his heavy coat. It looked the same- it all looked so friendly and familiar- and yet there was that undercurrent that made every moment with him seem as significant as it was terrifying.

When she looked up, he had walked to the front of the fire, and regardless of his formal suit, sat on the floor in front of the hearth. A big smile came to her face. He was still himself- still the boy she had sat in front of campfires with, in the hills and fields they had roamed in years gone by. Anne walked to his side, and holding her skirts carefully, she sat down beside him on the braided rug, removing her gloves with a little sigh. Gilbert looked across at her with a smile and reached out to touch the jewel-bright material that swirled around her.

"It's so pretty," he said softly, and then smiled at her. "But not so pretty as you."

Anne's eyes twinkled. To her surprise and his, her voice was low and intimate. "Are you charming me, Gilbert?"

"You tell me," he said, meeting her eyes evenly. He hesitated for a moment and held out his hand to her. She put her hand in his, feeling his skin against hers in a way that her gloves had not allowed all evening.

Gilbert took a deep breath, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb lightly. He couldn't make small talk; he couldn't do anything but leap in now.

"Anne, may I talk to you about something?" he asked. His heart was pounding terribly, but the look on her face spurred him on.

"Of course."

He turned to her then, reaching for her other hand.

"Anne, these have been the best three months of my life. And it's all because of you." Gilbert looked at her, his face gentle. He could feel her hands shaking within his, her grey eyes holding some unknown emotion. Was it fear? Was he rushing her?

He looked at her for a brief moment paralysed, and then made himself breathe slowly. If it was, Anne would tell him. That was who they were now. If she said so he would back off, he would take more time. He wanted her happiness first and foremost. But something was prompting him to speak now.

"I don't want to break anything we have here. And I promise you that no matter what happens, you have me as your friend for all time. I- I can't live a life without you. I know that now." His cheeks were pale, and he gripped her hands firmly to keep her there with him. "So I'm not going anywhere. But I want to do what I should have done nearly two years ago."

Anne's breath was coming quickly, and he could read the fear on her face.

"I should have found a way to talk to you about how I felt back then, rather than surprising you with a proposal you weren't ready for. I shouldn't have assumed we were on the same page, or that I knew how you felt about me. I didn't listen when you tried to stop me, I didn't think about how it could affect us." His voice faltered then. "Anne, you are _everything_ to me. You are my dearest friend- but I think you know by now that we are so much more than that. I think you must know how I feel about you by now. And I want to ask you if there is a chance that you could one day feel something for me too."

Gilbert forced himself to sit still, to not push. He watched her visibly try to calm herself and released the pressure on her hands. If she wanted space, she needed to have it. The moment between them held such tension, such fear- every moment they had shared together was hovering between them, and Gilbert could only wait.

Anne's eyes caressed his dear face. She knew him- she could read his face as he sat there, both hope and fear in equal measures. He was trusting her with this- with himself again. She tried to find her voice.

"Gilbert, you know how much I care for you," she said, her voice quivering. "And I know that you feel the same about me." She watched him pull back infinitesimally as if steeling himself for a blow. However, that wasn't Anne's intention. She tightened her hands on his and swallowed hard. "But I'm afraid," she admitted softly.

He pulled his closest hand from hers, and lifted it to her cheek, his eyes stricken. "Anne, I don't want you to-"

She interrupted him. "I'm afraid that everything will change. I'm afraid that we will lose who we are together. I couldn't live without you either." she said brokenly, and turned her cheek into his palm. She closed her eyes then, as a small tear escaped down her cheek. "Gilbert, I'm terrified. But if I'm honest, I'm even more afraid that nothing ever _will_ change between us." The fire crackled in front of them, sending flickering shadows of times past washing over them.

Gilbert's breath caught. "What?"

She couldn't say any more, and his other hand moved involuntarily to her cheek. He brushed the loose wisps of hair from her forehead and seemed to be struggling to find the words as well.

"Are you- are you saying that- you- that I have a chance?" he faltered. One beat passed, and another, and then she nodded. She blinked the tears from her eyes and gave him a tremulous smile.

At this, Gilbert gave an involuntary yell of pure joy and pulled her into his arms tightly. Her tears turned to helpless laughter then, and he fell back, slightly embarrassed at his lack of dignity.

"Anne, I'm terribly sorry, really I am, but it's just- it's just been a _long_ time," he said, his voice shaking, making her laugh again. She pulled back from him slightly, trying to wipe her eyes.

" _Please_ tell me you still love me." she said unsteadily.

Gilbert's eyes were tender. He stood up and then reached down to pull her up from the ground. Knowing the weight of what was about to follow, he was silent for a moment. She stood before him with tears in her eyes, and he put his hand on her waist to draw her to him, and the other on her beloved face.

"I've had so many dreams of this- and so many times I nearly told you how much I loved you," he admitted, with a low chuckle. He held her face close to his own, wanting her to see the truth in his eyes. "Anne, you're the only girl I have dreamed about, for nearly half my life. I love you so much that I don't know how I was breathing without you." He tried to catch his breath then. "When we were apart I lost my reason to live- and I know that it wasn't right, but without you, I just couldn't find one. I was barely alive until that morning at the crossroads."

Anne looked at him, her eyes wide and her breath coming quickly. His voice was trembling, and she watched him bare his soul before her.

"When you kissed me- when you kissed me goodbye that morning, I came back to life- and it hurt," he said with a little laugh. "But I had been dead, and it was _life._ I knew then that I couldn't leave you, that the two of us were so intimately bound together that I couldn't break it again. When you met me on the first day back, I knew- I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that we were meant to be together. Every moment with you since then has been a gift, but I just keep wanting you more." He paused then, his fingers pushing through the soft hair that fell over her forehead. Her grey eyes held his captive, and boldly, his hand slipped around to the back of her head. His gaze was hypnotic, and his face so close to her own. "Of course I love you, Anne. I always have. I don't go home when I leave here, you _are_ my home. You always will be."

Anne was trembling as she reached tentative hands up to touch his face. He closed his eyes as gentle fingers grazed along his jaw, over his cheekbones and over his brow. He smiled as she acquainted herself with his face, and murmured "Sweetheart, if you're going to do that to me, we need to sit down before I fall over. We've had quite a big night already."

She laughed, and he pulled her over to the sofa and sat beside her, her hand at first firmly in his own. Anne turned to him then, a small smile playing on her face. Her happiness made her strangely mute, and she studied his hazel eyes wonderingly, watching the joyful light play across them.

He smiled at her closeness. "Anne, are you _really_ going to make me wait to hear you say it?" he said in a low voice, sending another shiver through her.

Anne shook her head, a smile on her face. Her voice caught slightly. "I'm just trying to find the words," she said softly, and then took a deep breath. "I- I love you, Gilbert. I think I always have." She sighed and then gave a little laugh. "I love you so much that it scares me. It's as if I could lose myself in you- and I wouldn't even care. Does that make sense?" she asked, bringing a curious smile to his face.

"More than you know," he said quietly.

She looked at him, her face slightly bewildered. "Gilbert, this is terrifying!" she said, and then winced. "I'm sorry, I'm sure that wasn't what you wanted to hear."

He turned to face her lovingly and took her hands in his again.

"Anne, that's exactly what I wanted. I don't care what anyone else does," he said, his voice soft. "This is about you and I. If we're going to do this, it will be in our way. We're best friends, and we talk about anything. Let's just start from there." His eyes were tender as he looked at her. "All I ever wanted was a chance with you."

"You have more than that, Gilbert." Then a slight twinkle came into her eyes, and she began to smile. "We really aren't a typical couple, after all. I've broken your nose."

Gilbert grinned, getting into the spirit of the conversation.

"I've seen what you look like with a cold."

"We climbed trees together and went fishing and you rescued me from drowning…" Anne added placidly.

He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. "We taught together, we've laughed and cried together; put ourselves through college- and you broke a slate over my head..."

"Not to mention staying alone together overnight, in the middle of a hurricane," Anne said, and her eyes met his with a new found consciousness. The sound of the ticking clock that sat between Gog and Magog seemed strangely loud in her ears, and his face was distractingly close to hers.

"We did," he whispered sending shivers up her spine. "Anne?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, the sudden warmth in the little house almost becoming unbearable. "Yes?"

"I think perhaps that there _might_ be something here between us," he said with a mild voice. It brought her eyes back to his, and a big smile to her face. However, then he was looking into her eyes with the look he reserved only for her, the look that made the butterflies in her stomach swirl wildly.

"Do you want to find out with me?" Gilbert asked her, his voice husky. Anne looked into his eyes and despite the fear, despite the misunderstandings and terror of loss; she took a deep breath, and nodded.

His smile was sweet, but it faded quickly, replaced with a look she had often seen, but never understood before. There was a burning in his eyes that took her breath away, and his face was so close now that she could feel the warmth of his cheek next to her own.

"Anne? May I?" he breathed, and she nodded again, unable to look away. With his hand on her cheek, he brought his lips to hers with a kiss so gentle that it took her breath away. Her eyes slid shut blissfully, and she felt as if she was only being held to the ground by the merest thread. There was a moment when she thought they would pull away, however, his arms suddenly pulled her closer and his breath was hot as he caressed her lips. He held her to him, pouring all of the love he felt for her into the breathless kisses they now shared.

When she finally pulled away, there were tears in her eyes. She put her hand on his cheek to steady herself, and she laughed a little at the kiss he placed on her palm. She looked into the hazel eyes so close to her own, and tenderly stroked her fingers through his brown hair. Gilbert watched her dreamily, wondering what she was thinking. He sighed as her arms went around his neck, and she pulled herself to him to kiss him again.

Anne suddenly felt him smile against her lips and pulled away again to look at him.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

He caressed the softness of her cheek with a slight grin. "There's a thirteen-year-old version of me who is _extremely_ happy right now."

Anne chuckled. "And an eleven-year-old girl who is probably quite cross." She countered with a grin. "She got there in the end, though."

Gilbert sat back on the lounge and pulled their clasped hands to his lips briefly. "Thank you," he said, looking at her lovingly. His eyes twinkled suddenly. "When did you realise?" he said, his voice low.

Anne smiled impishly, her cheeks pink. "You mean _consciously_ knowing? Exactly eight days ago. I really should let you read Diana's letter sometime."

"Are you serious?" he said, laughing. "So that was why you were behaving so strangely!"

"Oh, that isn't fair!" Anne said crossly. "You had a ten-year head start on me, and one week is not long to try and process this! It's why- it's why I was worried," she admitted. "It's all so new, and I've never knowingly been in love before."

"Ah. And how is it?" he asked, teasingly.

"It became wonderful tonight; however, it was an interesting week!" she said emphatically. "I do hope I did alright on my exams after all the chaos."

Gilbert leant in to kiss her cheek. "You will. Anne, I meant what I said, we do this our way, in our time. We're not rushing this." He looked across at her with a smile. "However, at some point, we need to discuss _us_ , and for that matter, our _future_ , Miss Shirley."

Anne blushed, with one hand fiddling with the buttons on his white shirtfront. "Were you wanting to now?" she ventured and was surprised when he kissed her on the nose.

"Actually, I had a plan," he said, with a boyish smile. "And since part of that plan involves a discussion with Marilla that I haven't yet _had_ , I would like to be able to put some things in place first, if you don't mind."

She laughed at that. "I'm sure I can wait. I certainly made you wait long enough." She sighed then and put her head against his broad shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Gilbert," she whispered.

"For what?" he said, kissing the top of her red head.

"For last year, for- everything."

His eyes were on the fire, but he raised her hand to his lips. "It just wasn't right at the time," he said, his eyes sad. "I'm sorry too."

Before the silence went for too long, Anne looked up at him, her eyes clear. "We can't keep going with this regret, Gil. What if we make one last apology to each other, and then let it go?"

He smiled at her, and she turned to face him, taking his hands in hers.

"Gilbert, I'm sorry for pushing you away instead of talking to you when I felt frightened." Anne's voice was quiet and sincere. "That would have helped back then, I think." She put her head on one side, thinking. "I'm sorry for asking for friendship from you when you were hurting so much. I should have recognised that, and it was selfish of me." He shook his head at that, but Anne sighed, knowing she was right. "I'm sorry for the year apart, for making you think I didn't care, and for Roy." Her voice was barely above a whisper now. "I'm sorry for not seeing what was painfully obvious to everyone else, and for not understanding that I loved you sooner."

Gilbert smiled and wrapped his arms around her securely. As she nestled into his side, he spoke quietly.

"I'm sorry for being so focused on my own needs back then that I missed yours." She went to protest, and he put a finger on her lips briefly, with a slight grin. "You had your turn, Miss Shirley, it's _mine_ now. I _am_ sorry for that. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you afterwards- _no_ , you need to be quiet, Anne- I'm sorry that you believed I didn't care, and I'm sorry for how harsh I was towards you at the schoolhouse. I'm very sorry for not telling you about Oxford, and even more so for not telling you sooner I was staying." He took a deep breath then and smiled. "And I suppose I _should_ apologise for taking so many liberties with you since then- I was so excited that you were back in my life, and I think I let myself cross a few boundaries that I should have perhaps asked you about."

Anne smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Oh, it wasn't unwelcome. You have no idea how much I was hoping you would continue." she teased, making him laugh.

He smiled, at her lovely face, so close to his own. "So does this mean I can come calling on you properly, Anne Shirley? Are we really together now?"

She smiled at him and stroked his cheek with one hand. "After _that_ kiss, I should hope so." she teased, but then silenced him completely by bringing her lips to his sweetly. She pulled back and smiled at him.

"I love you, Gilbert."

He sighed then, feeling ten long years falling off his shoulders. "I love you, Anne."

They remained wrapped in each other's arms talking quietly until they heard laughter and voices coming up the little lane in the quiet night. Anne looked at Gilbert with a conscious smile as they heard the little gate creak and footsteps on the pathway.

"You know, we really need to tell them," Anne whispered.

Gilbert raised one eyebrow at her and nodded. "I'll take care of it." He moved back on the lounge to an innocent-looking distance, and they waited for the key to sound in the lock. Anne looked at him blushing, wondering what his plan was.

Philippa Gordon held her breath, as she walked in through the door with Jo, Stella and Priscilla. She looked at the quiet pair on the lounge, and then back at the others in shock. Gilbert's face was impassive, and Anne's was turned away as she calmly rearranged her skirts. Everything looked much as it had for the last few months.

"You're back," Gilbert said lazily. "Did you have fun?"

Phil let her bag fall to the ground, for once surprised out of her wits. What on earth was _wrong_ with this pair? Jo met her eyes with a shrug, and she turned back to the two on the lounge, severely disappointed.

"Well, we had a nice time. Did you two?" she asked pointedly.

Gilbert grinned and looked at a now smiling Anne. He moved in close to take her face in his hands and pressed a lingering kiss to her waiting lips. There was a brief second of astonished silence in the room, and then it began to erupt in triumph around them.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Consistent rain fell for nearly a week after the Hannerford Ball. To Anne and Gilbert, though, it was as cheerful as a November had ever been. On Friday evening Gilbert arrived at Patty's place with a huge smile, despite the soaking he had received when crossing over the bridge.

Aunt Jimsie ushered him in front of the fire, and he peeled off his jacket with a sheepish grin. He hadn't ventured out in the gale since Sunday night and had to be content with seeing Anne between classes through the week. While he chafed inwardly at remaining home, he had shrugged philosophically and got on with his work. Last week's turmoil had cost him some attention, and he made a valiant effort to catch up in the evenings at home. Charlie's complaints about Gilbert taking up too much space at the desk and his seemingly unreasonable cheerfulness notwithstanding, he had managed it by Thursday night.

Anne ran down the stairs with a big smile, having heard his voice from her room. She flew into his arms gladly before stopping short, seeing she was being watched by an amused Stella, and a tut-tutting Aunt Jimsie. Gilbert bent to kiss her anyway, feeling that five days had been long enough for him.

"Well _really_ ," Jimsie said, crossly. "The two of you aren't engaged yet, Miss Anne." She ignored Anne's heating face and Gilbert's cocky grin, as she bustled around with a towel to mop up the puddles he had left when he arrived. "In my day we kept the time of courtship sacred to intellectual discussion and words of chaste admiration. You would do _much_ better-" she began, when Stella piped up.

"That's not what papa says." she teased. "Apparently when he was a boy, when you and Uncle Harry were courting, you kissed him in front of the minister when he was visiting grandpa one evening, and the poor fellow fell off his chair in shock."

Jimsie blushed hotly, making both of the girls giggle. "I always knew your father was a little tattletale," she muttered. She looked at Gilbert and Anne then, a reluctant smile on her face. "Mind you two behave yourselves. And you had better tell Philippa to do the same. That girl is far too emotional for her own good."

She swept upstairs then, and Stella began to pack up her books.

"Well, as amusing as watching the two of you would be, I believe I will get more work done in the dining room tonight." She picked up the stack as she went, her eyes twinkling. "Tell Priss when she comes home that if she wants sanctuary then she can join me."

Anne's face was pink, and she moved to hang Gilbert's wet coat on a chair near the fire.

"Well, we seemed to have cleared the room." she said, a little embarrassed.

Gilbert pulled her close to him, with the twisted smile she loved. "That _is_ a good trick." he murmured. He bent his head to kiss her again, and she sighed as she put her arms around his neck to draw him closer to her. After some minutes of blissful occupation, he pulled away from her lips and rested his forehead against hers.

"Do you know how wonderful it is to be able to do that?" he said, with a contented sigh.

"I do." Anne whispered. "You haven't changed your mind?"

"Anne, you've asked me that every single day since Saturday," he said laughing. "What do I need to do to convince you that I mean it?"

He still felt the little sigh against his chest and a twinkle came into his eye. In a moment he had her up in his arms protestingly, and sat himself down on the sofa with her in his lap.

Anne's face was bright red. "Gilbert, this really isn't at all proper-"

He interrupted her with a long kiss and only broke it when she stopped trying to argue.

"When were you and I _ever_ proper?" he asked her, unanswerably. He smiled as she rested her head against his. "Anne, I'm not changing my mind, I meant what I said. And in time I will be able to show you fully just how much I love you." he said firmly. He held her close to him and waited until she relaxed.

There were a few minutes of silence until Anne suddenly spoke again. "Gilbert? You aren't ever afraid?" she asked wistfully.

Gilbert looked at her, considering. "I was last Saturday," he admitted at last. Her grey eyes met his wonderingly. "I didn't know if you would say you didn't feel that way about me, or that you weren't ready."

Anne's hand stroked his cheek. "Well, I do, and I _am_." she reassured him. "Would you really have just stayed my friend if I had wanted that?" she asked.

Gilbert sighed. "I would. I couldn't lose you again. Although I must say, I am extremely glad you said yes." His arms were around her waist tightly.

"So am I." Anne kissed him then and sighed. "Now as delightful as this is, I really should move. If anyone comes in they would be _completely_ horrified." She tilted her head on one side then, with a smile that made his heart thunder. "You know, Gilbert, this is the problem with coming to this point at the start of winter. In the summer we could simply lose ourselves outdoors, and no one would be any the wiser."

He grinned at that. "Would you have _wanted_ to wait until summer?" he asked, with one eyebrow raised; and laughed when she shook her head expressively. "So we must behave ourselves appropriately until then. It's lucky that we have so much to do before that."

Anne had forgotten to move, playing with the arm wrapped around her. "Like what?"

"Like finishing our Arts degree?" Gilbert reminded her.

"Oh! Oh, well yes, there is that I suppose." she said with a laugh. "When is your last exam?"

"In two weeks. I have some assignments due next week, so I'll be working right up until then." He smiled mischievously. "You couldn't come to my classes? I'm sure I'd work better like this."

Anne snorted unbelievingly. "I doubt that, Mr Blythe. You'll be bringing work home over the holidays?"

"Of course. Mother will complain, however good grades don't just fall from the skies. They have to be earned." He sighed then. "Now, this is my night off studying, I really don't want to talk about college."

Anne smiled, brushing her hand through his hair. "And just what _would_ you like to discuss?"

Gilbert caught her hand and kissed it lightly, and watched her for a moment. There was still a large part of him that wondered if this could all be a dream- the real reason he couldn't keep his hands away from her. When he could touch her it seemed more tangible. He smiled then. She still hadn't moved, and her own hands seemed determined to reassure their owner as well. He gave a little sigh. Soon it would be official, soon the strangeness would wear off, and they would both feel a little more secure.

"History." Gilbert then said, unexpectedly. He chuckled at her puzzled look and tried to explain. "I thought I knew everything that was going on over the last ten years, however apparently I didn't know _everything_. It's rewriting our history."

Anne laughed. "I suppose I have some questions about that too." Her fingers ran around his collar with a frown. "Gil, you're still wet! We need to get you warm. I don't want you getting sick."

"Anne, getting cold _doesn't_ give you-"

Anne carefully moved off his knee, rolling her eyes long-sufferingly. "Yes, I _know_ , a cold is caused by the growth and reproduction of bacteria, _thank_ you Doctor. But I still want to get you warm."

"I _was_ warm a moment ago." he said cheekily, and she chuckled.

"I need to get something from upstairs, and then I'll make us something warm to drink. Stella too, if she dares to open the door."

Gilbert watched Anne run up the stairs, and then stood up to stretch. He strolled across to the little dining room and knocked on the door. He came in when bidden, stopping to laugh at the mess on the floor.

Stella pulled her reading glasses off. " _Don't_ say it, I have a system." she said threateningly.

"Well, Joseph is sitting on part of your system. Did you know that?"

"As long as I don't get cat hair on it when I present the paper, that's fine."

Gilbert stepped around the piles carefully. "Anne is making tea for everyone, if you want some."

Stella smiled. "That's nice. I'll bring a tray back in here."

Gilbert's face was chagrined. "Stella, I'm sorry if we're making you uncomfortable-"

She laughed at that while standing up and rubbing her eyes. "Gilbert, it's fine. Kissing couples don't particularly worry me, however in this circumstance three _is_ a crowd. And the two of you don't get that much time alone. I'll come out when the others get home from the theatre later."

He grinned, grateful. "Stella, you are a gem."

"Yes. I really am." she replied thoughtfully.

Anne peered around the door. "Is it safe to enter?" she asked lightly.

Gilbert frowned comically. "If you know how to play dodge the paperwork. You may not get out alive."

Stella rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop exaggerating. I'll come and help make tea."

Ten minutes later, Stella had retreated to her den with a heavily laden tray, and Gilbert carried a similar one into the fire-lit room. As he straightened up, he felt something warm and woollen slip over his shoulders. He turned to see a smiling Anne, who tucked the dark grey scarf around his neck with a smile.

"There it is!" he said, grinning. "I assumed you had it since I had yours. That _was_ fun, by the way." he said, finding great amusement in the quick blush of her cheeks.

Her face was studiously turned from his. "And so where is mine?" she questioned with a conscious little smile, bringing an even bigger grin to his face.

He bent down to her level, his voice quiet. "Right where I left it. Under my pillow." He kissed her surprised mouth, one hand of his hands caressing her pink cheek. "And where was mine just now?" he asked, his eyes tender. At first it didn't look like she would answer, as she sat down and began to pour the tea into the waiting cups. He began to chuckle. "Anne, if you don't tell me I will be forced to use my imagination for an answer. And I can assure you my imagination is quite a wild one where you are concerned."

She laughed then and rolled her eyes. "Very well, then. I will _only_ say that we had the same idea." She was blushing then to the roots of her hair, and Gilbert thanked his lucky stars that the girl next to him was truly his now, both in heart and mind. And also that she couldn't read _his_ mind at that moment.

When the tea had been poured and drunk, and the two of them were relaxing, Gilbert pulled her in closer to his side.

"So, back to history." he looked at her cheekily. "Come on, tell me something I wouldn't know."

Anne looked at him innocently. "You mean like the etymology of the word ' _cantaloupe'_?

Gilbert narrowed his eyes at her. "Surprisingly, Miss Shirley, not that. I mean _our_ etymology." His look at her was suggestive, and he grinned at her.

Anne laughed then, covering her face for a moment. She thought for a moment, and then looked up at him.

"Alright. I must confess that I have been jealous of nearly every girl you have ever spoken to." she said reluctantly.

Gilbert began to laugh and was rewarded for that with a poke in the ribs.

"Stop that!" he chuckled. " _Really_?"

Anne scowled. "Unfortunately, yes. Spoken to, sat next to, wrote to-" he gave her a huge smile, and she looked at him questioningly.

"Look, it's just nice to know that while I was eating my heart out over you- and I _was_ \- that you were feeling something for me too."

Anne sighed. "Well, I didn't realise it, and wouldn't have admitted it if I _did-_ but yes. Ruby once told me you were writing to her, and I didn't like that one little bit." She said with a little frown.

"You know she wrote to Charlie and Moody as well, didn't you?" he said dryly. "She loved writing to the college men, said it made the boys back home wildly jealous. That's why she did it."

"Well, it worked on me." Anne said with a sigh. "Now, it's your turn."

Gilbert's hand idly stroked her hair, and he turned his head to smell the flower-like scent of her red curls.

"I wrote to you last year." he said suddenly into her temple.

Anne turned to stare at him. "Gil, you didn't!"

His looked was serious. "I did. I burnt them as soon as I had written them, but it helped sometimes."

Anne's eyes studied him remorsefully. Her hand captured his, and she spoke to him softly. "What did you write?"

He smiled a little. "I would tell you I loved you. And sometimes I would tell you how angry I felt. I'd say how nice you looked when I saw you; how much I missed you. Sometimes I just talked to you about college." He sighed then, his long fingers tracing hers gently. "And sometimes I would tell you that I knew you loved me."

She had her arms around his neck by then, holding him as tightly as she knew how to. "I _did_. I _do_. You were right all along. Oh Gil, I'm so sorry. I wish I could read them now."

A chuckle came from her shoulder after a minute. "Sweetheart, I love this, but I _really_ need to breathe."

She released him then, with a little laugh that abruptly ended when he captured her chin in his hand and kissed her. "It's all right. You know now. And I know now too. Speaking of which, you never told me how that particular realisation came about!"

She laughed again, her cheeks red. "Yes, I thought you might ask that." She pulled from her pocket a well read, well-worn letter. She held onto it tightly, not releasing it to his ready hand. "I wrote to Di when I was feeling a little- confused." she said, embarrassed. "Everything was going so well with us, and I hadn't yet told anyone except Marilla that things between us were the way they used to be. I told Diana- well, everything."

Gilbert's eyebrows rose up. "Everything?"

"Well, I may have left out _one_ little detail," Anne said consciously.

Gilbert's eyes were twinkling. "I think I can imagine which one. And did _Phil_ get to hear that little detail?"

Anne shook her head. "Noooo- that was just for us," she whispered, her hand on his cheek.

His handsome face flushed, and his eyes were dark when he pulled her in close to kiss her passionately, remembering the hurt they had both felt at parting, and the new beginning it had sparked. Anne's mind was similarly occupied, and she pressed herself closer to him instinctively. His lips had parted slightly, causing a shudder to go through the two of them as they held each other close.

When they came to themselves a few minutes later, Gilbert took a deep breath and met her wide eyes with a slight grin. He stroked her cheek lightly.

"So? This letter?" he asked.

"Letter?" she asked breathlessly. "Oh- oh yes. Here."

He took the letter in one hand, and his other was held tightly in her lap. He read through the pages studiously, muttering comments here and there, making Anne laugh.

"Ah yes, the baby…. yes, I should say well done to both of them, I understand it does take _two_ …."

"Gilbert _Blythe_!"

"Hmmm, Fred is lucky her father fled for the barn rather than wringing his scrawny neck…." he commented with a chuckle. "I wonder if I will be as forgiving with _my_ daughters." He pretended not to see Anne's blush at that comment. "She wants to see us together! And so she will, come December."

His next was an explosive laugh at the water leak over the bed. "We were having the worst night of our lives, and they were worried about losing a night of-"

"Gilbert, you _don't_ have to read that bit-" Anne protested, blushing.

"No, dearest, this is priceless. I wouldn't miss this for anything." He laughed and then sobered as he read the next words. "' _Something that hurts you both when whenever you have been apart_ '- hmm, she's got that right…" he muttered, and then stopped completely at the next line. "Oh, God bless that woman."

Anne snuggled into his side again and sighed. He read quickly with a tender expression, stopping to kiss the top of her head every now and then.

"Do you really think it dates back to the slate?" he asked her suddenly.

"I would say _something_ started back then, although it probably wasn't love at that stage." she said witha little laugh "Although when you worked so hard to tell me that you were sorry, and when I would see how hard you worked in school- I wouldn't admit how that made me feel." She looked up at him with a little smile. "I think I was attracted to you for a long time, but it probably began when we became friends."

Gilbert let out a big sigh of contentment. "What I wouldn't give to go back and tell myself that." He picked up the letter to continue.

"Well, Diana was spot on." he gave a wry chuckle. "I never looked at anyone else. I only wanted you, and I never stopped." He looked down to see her smiling too. He finished the letter and wrapped her up in his arms again. "I owe that woman _everything."_ he said emphatically.

"Oh, I think it would have happened anyway. I was getting there slowly. It might have taken me just a little while longer." Anne admitted.

"Like I said, I owe her everything," Gilbert stated with a laugh. "Any longer and I was going to do something very reckless."

"Oh?" Anne teased.

"Anne, I nearly told you I loved you _that_ night." he said flatly. "After all that yelling, all the turmoil, and I would have spilled everything in the middle of the storm." he said honestly.

Anne looked at him, a little smile on her face. "It might have convinced me then, you know."

Gilbert groaned. "No, _don't_ tell me that."

"But then we would have missed all this," Anne said thoughtfully and grinned. "And I would never have realised just how well you can flirt, Mr Blythe." She fluttered her eyelashes at him, and he began to laugh. "You _were_ flirting with me over the last few months, weren't you?"

"I don't know. I've never done it with anyone else. It seems to have worked, so let's just call it that." He said with a grin. He tightened his arm around her again. "I'm glad it happened now."

"As am I."

There was a short silence in the room then, until Anne stiffened suddenly. Gilbert looked down at her puzzled, seeing her looking at him in shock.

"Do you realise we still have to tell everyone back home?" Anne said, bewildered. "Di knows not to say anything to anyone yet, however, there are Marilla, your parents- oh goodness, Rachel and the rest of the town-"

Well, I only care about the top three." Gilbert said firmly. "Everyone else can be happy for us, or keep their noses out of our business. So you've written Diana since Saturday?"

Anne laughed then. "Yes, and had a response today- although you won't be seeing _that_ one. There are way too many italics and capital letters to make that public; needless to say she is completely thrilled. Also, Di is very frank about some pregnancy symptoms that weren't covered in the Anatomy class." she added drolly.

"So we need to talk to my parents and Marilla," he said, grinning. "Do we write, or talk to them in person?"

Anne smiled. "Actually, I rather like that we haven't told them yet- we have a few weeks for it to just belong to _us_."

"And Phil… and Jimsie and Stella and Priss…" Gilbert drawled. "And Charlie and Moody now and probably half of Redmond by now."

Anne gave him an amused smile. "You told them?"

He laughed. "They pinned me down on Sunday morning to find out what happened after the ball, and since I couldn't stop grinning I gave myself away. I'm sorry."

"It's no matter. Let us hope they don't write home until we can get there." Anne responded, laughing. "And that's only a few weeks away."

Gilbert looked at the clock on the mantelpiece and grinned. "Alright. In the meantime, the others will be home from the theatre soon, and since I would like to spend a little time _not_ talking before they get here…"

He did not need to continue since by this point Anne had put one slim hand on the back of his curly brown head, and drawn him down to her convincingly.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

As November led into December, the girls found themselves at war with the elements both inside and outside of Patty's place. The man who delivered firewood came several times a week, and closed doors were policed ferociously in the chilly evenings. Walks to school were no longer times to chatter, but passages to be navigated with difficulty. Anne thought longingly of home, and a holiday in which there was little reason to brave the weather up to four times a day. Marilla would have a warm drink heating on the stove, and her little bedroom at Green Gables was a haven of warmth in the cold. In the meantime, though, she fought early December winds to get to classes, looking forward to leaving Kingsport for Avonlea in just over a fortnight's time.

Early one Friday morning, when the ladies were breakfasting in the little dining room, all heads were raised by an urgent knock on the door.

Phil ran to answer it, the rest of the girls close behind. They opened the door to greet in shock a white faced Gilbert, who immediately reached to take Anne in his arms. After a startled glance at each other, the other girls retreated to the dining room, holding their burning questions for the moment.

Anne had glimpsed Gilbert's bags in the doorway, and pulled back to take his face in her hands.

"Gil, what's happened?" she said, her eyes showing her fear.

He tried to take a deep breath. "It's Dad. There was an accident; I have to go."

"Oh, Gil." Anne tried to catch her breath. "Alright. Do you want me to come with you?" she asked.

He gave her a grateful look. "No, you still have an exam and two weeks of classes yet."

"But so do you!" she protested.

He chuckled wryly. "Professor Kellerman gave the exam to me, I'm to do it on the train and post it as soon as I reach the other end. I'm leaving right now. He's sending me the notes for my subjects."

Anne pulled away to get her coat. "If you can give me five minutes, I'll come with you to the station."

"Anne, you don't have to—" he protested, however when she only glared at him mutinously, he gave in. "Thank you."

Anne ran to quickly update the girls and gather what she needed, while Gilbert was hustled in front of the fire for a few minutes by Priscilla. A short time later Anne took the hand not occupied with his bags, and the two of them walked out onto the misty street together.

"Do you know what happened?" she asked.

Gilbert shook his head. "The telegram just said an accident- but mother wouldn't tell me to come for just anything." He shivered slightly, and Anne held his hand a little tighter on the long walk to the station.

Half an hour later, Gilbert had loaded his bags onto the waiting train. Seeing it would not leave for a few more minutes, he led Anne to the benches outside the waiting rooms. He needed to touch her, to find something concrete to anchor him. She nestled under his arm comfortingly.

"We were meant to travel home together in a fortnight," he said, forlorn. "Our first time in years."

She looked up at him, her grey eyes steady. "I'll be home in two weeks. You'll be right where you are needed, and I'll come home as planned."

"Moody and Charlie said they're coming home that day too, so they can make sure you're alright." Gilbert said, prompting Anne's laughter.

"I travelled this line to get to the Island when I was just eleven, Gilbert. And on the last trip back here, I was the one looking out for the seasick twins." She smiled at him then. "You have enough to worry about, don't worry about me. Priss and Stella are coming as far as Charlottetown as well."

The whistle blew then, and they reluctantly stood. Anne put her gloved hand against his cheek, and he put his arms around her tightly.

"Gil, you once told me your father was the stubbornest man you had ever known- and that he wouldn't give up for anything. Marilla says that about him too." Anne said softly. "He's going to recover quickly, and you will be there to see him do it."

He nodded, burying his face in her hair. "I'll pick you up from the station, all right? I'll let Marilla know."

"But your family needs you-"

He cut her off firmly. "I will be picking you up. And I'll write you as soon as I can."

She chuckled. "We might not get some of the letters until after we're back together again."

"I'll chance it." His hands were on her cheeks then, and he bent his head to kiss her lingeringly. "Two weeks. I'll see you in two weeks," he said, his breath coming quickly. She held his hand tight as they walked back onto the platform, and he stooped to give her another kiss before boarding the train.

As the train pulled out of the station, she was standing by his window, smiling bravely and waving until she couldn't see him anymore.

* * *

It was nearing midnight when Gilbert was finally delivered to his family home by George Fletcher, who had offered to collect his nephew from the last train at Bright River station. Feeling slightly surreal at the swiftness of the change, he knocked on his front door.

Cora Blythe met him at the door with a strangling hug, laughing and crying regardless of the late hour.

"Oh, Gilbert, my little boy! How in the world did you get here so quickly?" she cried to the man of twenty-four, and then pulled back to look at him closely. A slightly puzzled look came over her face, at the changes in Gilbert since they had last seen him in June. He had filled out once again, and despite the late hour, she could see that his eyes had lost the hopeless look they had had back then. What on earth could have produced such a change?

"Gilbert, you cut your hair!" she said, disappointed.

He laughed a little at that. "I was just trying something, Ma. Never mind that. What's going on with dad?"

She took his arm to lead him up the stairs to the master bedroom, talking softly. "He was trying to re-shingle the barn before the snow came, even though I thought it could wait another season. You _know_ how stubborn he can be. He slipped on one of the old tiles and fell quite badly off the roof yesterday. The doctor was able to come fairly quickly; however, he was quite chilled before we were able to move him. He's been in and out of consciousness all day, the doctor said that that is to be expected with a concussion. He's been talking a little tonight, thank heavens. His arm was broken, as were a few ribs, however, it remains to be seen if that is the worst of the injuries. Oh, Gilbert, I'm so relieved you could come."

By this time, they had reached the doorway of his parent's room, and Gilbert walked in nervously. As his eyes adjusted to the dim room, he lowered himself into the little chair beside the bed. His father was lying flat on his back, and bandages covered his upper body and the side of his head. As he tried to take in the scope of the injury, the hazel eyes like his own opened, and the bruised face gave a twitch reminiscent of his father's old grin.

"Hi, dad." he said quietly.

His father's fingers lifted from the blue covers, and Gilbert took the weathered old hand, his throat constricting, and trying to smile past his own worry and exhaustion.

"You weren't just looking for some attention, were you dad?" Gilbert teased lightly. The older man's chest lifted slightly in a soundless chuckle.

"Ma's just being a drama queen, I'll be up in the morning." John Blythe mumbled, with a raspy voice. "It's good to see you, son."

Gilbert laughed quietly, relief flooding into his body. His father was still who he had always been. He stood up then, and leaned to hug his father as best as he could around the bandages.

"I'm here till after New Year's, dad. We'll see if we can't stop you from climbing on barns for the next month at least." The hand waved again, and Gilbert straightened up, letting out a breath he seemed to have been holding all day. His mother smoothed a cool hand over his father's forehead and then ushered her son from the room.

"You need to get some sleep first, dear, I have your room ready. You can sit with your father in the morning while I have a little rest." She fussed over him for a moment, looking wistfully at her grown-up son. "Gilbert, I'm so sorry to have interrupted you in term time; however, for a time the doctor wasn't sure how seriously he was injured. There was some concern about internal bleeding, and possible damage to the spine. I've been so worried, I didn't know what I would do until I received word you were coming this morning. I thought you needed to have the option to come, at least."

"I did need to. I'm glad I'm here," he said truthfully.

Gilbert hugged his mother, knowing how deeply worried she was. He remembered this look on her face from his younger days, days when they weren't sure if his father would live. From time to time the guilt of being his parent's only child and having to go so far from home to study would overwhelm him, however, his parents had only ever encouraged him to pursue whatever dream he had. Getting control of himself again, he sighed. He was here now; he couldn't worry about the rest of it.

Minutes later he was alone in his room, and he dropped his bags on his bedroom floor. He moved slowly to get changed for bed, looking around his room to acclimatise himself again. He let out a long sigh. He was home two weeks earlier than expected, however his father would be alright, he could see that. The last thing he pulled from his suitcase was the scarf he had teased Anne about not wanting to hand back.

As he lay in the darkness, a slight smile came to his face. Two seasons had come and gone, and so much had changed since the last time he had been here. He had left Avonlea the afternoon after the storm, as expected. When he had arrived home that morning just after sunrise, his father had met him at the door, completely bewildered at the sight of his ashen-faced son. Within minutes the story had been spilled out over the kitchen table, and John Blythe had his arm around his distraught son.

John had said very little. He told Gilbert they were proud of him for keeping on going, that it would get easier. He'd liked Marilla's girl, had hoped she would return Gilbert's love one day. He'd known, though, just how it felt to have to make a different life than the one you had planned.

When Gilbert had come back downstairs a few hours later, he was calmer and resolute. He told them Oxford was no longer a settled thing, that he would make up his mind about the scholarship when he returned to Kingsport. He would let them know as soon as he could. His mother had hugged him and cried, and his father had gently tried to prise her grip off Gilbert to get him to the station in time.

Gilbert settled against his pillows, pulling the heavy blankets over him again. He sighed, contented. The rest of the story would have to be told to his parents as soon as his father had stabilised, especially if Charlie had been busy. He wasn't worried, though. His parents had loved his girl, and in two weeks' time, Anne would be able to see that for herself.

* * *

It was another three days before John was able to sit up in bed and eat a meal. Once the worst of the headaches had subsided, he began to lament the now enforced idleness; despite Cora and Gilbert's protests that everything around the farm was under control. Cora faithfully read farming bulletins to him to occupy his mind, and Gilbert was required to give a point by point account of everything he had done in the barn that day. In between the daily reports and chores, Gilbert had found some time to work on his studies, and his last exam had been mailed from the Charlottetown post office as he had promised.

On Monday afternoon Gilbert was sitting in his parent's bedroom reading some case studies, when his mother arrived home from the store, and walked in to see how the invalid was doing.

"Everyone is asking after you, dear. The Andrews' have dropped off a stew and some baked goods this morning, followed by some pies from Orchard Slope. I must say, I am relieved to not have to cook today." She took her hat off to lay it on the dresser and leaned over to check on her husband.

"And what did you boys do this morning?" she asked brightly. It was miraculous how much having Gilbert at home cheered the house up, and she was convinced it was helping John to recover much more quickly.

Even from under the bandage under his eye, Cora could see the grin on her husband's face.

"Oh, we kept occupied. Do you want to tell your mother what you just told me?" he said to Gilbert.

Cora looked at him, her eyes wide. She carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, trying not to jostle John, and then turned to Gilbert with a slightly higher voice than usual. "Tell me what, exactly?"

Gilbert scratched his ear, a sheepish smile on his face. "I'd hoped to lead into it a little, dad."

John's laugh rang out in the little room, punctuated by a slight groan at the stress it had placed on his mending ribs.

Gilbert chuckled. "All right. Mother, I guess I've been writing this term a lot about-"

"Yes, like you haven't written for nearly two years, dear." Cora interrupted. "I'm glad something is making you put pen to paper for us again."

"Well, it's not exactly something, but _someone,_ " Gilbert said awkwardly. "It's Anne."

Cora pursed her lips a little. The mentions in letters had not been slight and had been the source of many an anxious moment for her. Would the girl hurt him again? How on earth had they managed to remain friends after the Kingsport man that Almira Sloane had _assured_ her was there? John had been sanguine about it, saying their son was a smart fellow, he wouldn't hang around where he was likely to be burned. Cora was less convinced. She had known how much her boy had loved the dreamy girl, and she'd liked her too- until the day she had been told by a complacent Mrs Sloane the devastating outcome of Gilbert's proposal.

"While I am very glad the two of you have been able to come to terms again as two old schoolfellows, I'm not sure just what you think-"

"Cora, just listen." her husband ordered gently.

"You know I've written about how close we are again. Mother, I have my best friend back. You know how much I missed her. And you probably also know I still love her." he said frankly.

She sighed, her arms folded. "Yes, I suppose so."

"She loves me," Gilbert said simply. "I don't mean as friends, or as companions, I mean Anne loves me like I love her. And I'm going to ask her to marry me."

Cora's face was a study, alternating between joy and consternation. "Dear, I don't wish to be insensitive to your feelings, but how can you really be sure?" she pleaded. "We all thought this would go somewhere before, and all you ended up with was a broken heart."

John chuckled. "That's your version of _sensitive_ , love?" he said teasingly to his wife. "He _knows_. Just let him speak."

Gilbert sighed, having known this would come up. He sat forward on his chair and looked at his mother earnestly. Over the next ten minutes, he recounted the whole story for her, stopping periodically to answer her questions. Finally, he sat back on the chair to finish.

"Mother, I have spent nearly every moment with her since we returned to college. It's not like it was before, it's different. I know that- I know _her_." he added. "We can talk now- and I understand why she said no back then. She wasn't ready, but I didn't see it. I was scared, and I tried to hang on to her on by proposing, which in retrospect was a stupid move." He sighed, and then his face broke into a tender smile that surprised his mother. "Over two weeks ago she told me she loved me. I don't think I've touched the ground since then. She was the one to see me off on the train from Kingsport. She even offered to come back here with me on Friday," and he laughed a little. "I just wish I'd said yes."

Cora had her arms tightly folded now, and was furiously trying to not cry. John attempted to reach out to her, however, it was Gilbert who stood and walked over to her and took her hand awkwardly.

"Ma, I know this isn't what you expected, and I know you have your reservations. But Anne is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with- and she wants a life with me. I _know_ that."

At this Cora burst into tears, and threw her arms around her bewildered son. He looked down at his father in consternation, who just laughed. She was saying something into his shoulder, and he had to ask her to repeat it.

"You get your _what_?" he asked.

"I get to have a daughter," she sobbed, and Gilbert looked at her, confused. "And I always thought that girl needed a mother. I would have adopted her when you were teaching if I could have. If she'd only had one she wouldn't have been so mixed up." she said emphatically, her voice shaking.

"Cora, she already has Marilla, who loves her very much. And there are plenty of mixed up people who _do_ have parents, dear." John said, amused.

"Can you both stop calling her that?" Gilbert said, exasperated. "She loves me. There's nothing mixed up about that, is there?"

Cora wiped her eyes, her head held high. "Oh, you boys wouldn't understand. When does she get back?" She turned to Gilbert, her brown eyes bright.

Gilbert laughed. With his mother, it was all in or all out- Anne would be fine now.

"She'll arrive when we originally planned to, on the seventeenth. I'm picking her up from the station."

"Good. Tell her we want her to visit as soon as she is able to. Oh, when are you going to propose?"

He protested. "Give me some time, mother. I'm not exactly on holidays right now, am I? I'm here for you and dad. Plus, I need to talk to Marilla first."

"Well, get right on that, dear." She then eyed him mischievously. "I suppose _this_ is why you look so much healthier than you did last summer. Is Anne responsible for that?"

Gilbert laughed. "She is. It's amazing what happiness and a bit of sleep can do for you."

Cora bustled out of the room wiping her eyes then, leaving father and son alone.

"Well, that went better than I expected." Gilbert said with a wry grin.

John groaned as he shifted on the bed. "You told us a fair bit in your letters, remember. I noticed you were a bit sketchy on details with the night of the storm though."

"Did you _want_ me to give her heart failure, dad?"

"She's made of stronger stuff than that. We were young too, once." John sighed. He fixed his son with a serious look. "Just tell me you treated Marilla's girl with respect, Gil. Both then and now."

Gilbert looked at his father, his eyes steady. "I have, dad."

"Good." John gave a slight smile. "Are you still planning on going to medical school?" he asked.

"Yes. It'll be a long engagement." Gilbert said soberly.

John nodded. "It'll pass, and quicker than you might think." He sighed then, and Gilbert stood to move the pillows to make him more comfortable. "You should get back to work, son. The cows won't shoe themselves."

Gilbert looked at him sharply, before seeing the grin on the older man's face. He settled back on his pillows as Gilbert left the room chuckling.

His father was doing so much better now, and the doctor had been cautiously optimistic about the injury he had done to his back when he fell. Dr Spencer had told his father sternly that if he wanted to be up by Christmas he would have to stay abed, without complaining. Privately he told Cora and Gilbert that the risk of permanent damage was decreasing, allowing them to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Gilbert had a grin on his face as he donned his heavy boots, and his father's work coat to head out to the barn. He stood on the veranda of his home, breathing the freshness of the cool, winter air and looked up the misty road with keen eyes. There was the path he had once been so familiar with, the road to Green Gables. He turned from it with a little smile on his face.

He would be heading that way soon.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

The December morning was crisp and clear when the postmaster of Avonlea met Gilbert at the desk with a slight smile.

"Nothing today, Gilbert," he said, with a chuckle. "You've had something nearly every day this week. Is there a girl involved from your school?"

"Just checking the mail for the family, Stan." Gilbert said with a disarming grin and turned to go, only to run into Mrs Almira Sloane, who had been listening and looked at him knowingly.

"Yes, welcome back to Avonlea," she said sweetly. "I'm sure your parents must be delighted to have you home ahead of the _rest_ of our students."

Gilbert smiled awkwardly, wondering what the odds were of Charlie keeping his mouth shut in his weekly letters home.

"Who are your parents expecting mail from, dear?" Mrs Sloane said, her wide eyes staring at him. "Someone from _Redmond_ , perhaps?"

Gilbert gave her the blankest look he could muster. "New Brunswick, actually. Mother's cousin writes often, and as you know dad is recovering very slowly. They _are_ quite concerned."

"Yes, I heard that the doctor was suspecting a spinal injury, Gilbert." she said with avid interest.

Gilbert sighed. "They did; however, he was able to walk a little yesterday," he said evenly, inwardly chafing at the spread of news in a small town. He would have to remember that when _he_ was the doctor.

She looked at him sceptically, and he thought that withdrawal was the safest alternative.

"Mrs Sloane, I must get back home to my parents, and make sure my father has been well in my absence. No doubt you have a myriad of preparations to be getting done before Charlie comes home for the holidays." He tipped his cap to her and was gone before she could blink those big eyes.

He moved quickly down the street, slowing as he reached the horse and buggy. The supplies his parents had asked for were already loaded, so he would be able to leave quickly. As far as he was concerned, it couldn't be quick enough. He went to climb into the buggy and then froze as Josie Pye's unmistakeable voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Well, if it isn't the dutiful son." she said smoothly, coming to stand beside the wheel, in an over-embellished bright pink hat that made his eyes ache.

Gilbert gritted his teeth and turned to face her courteously. "Josie. How are you?"

Josie smiled. "Very well, Gilbert. We've been wondering if you would _ever_ return to Avonlea."

"Josie, my family is here." he said calmly.

"You seem to do a good job of forgetting that most of the year."

Gilbert gave an artificial smile. "Have you not heard of getting an education? Avonlea can only take you so far."

"For someone who will only end up becoming a _teacher_ , Redmond seems like a tremendous expense. I wonder at your parents for allowing it."

"I'm sorry Josie, I've got to get going, my parents are expecting me." He climbed into the buggy, and Josie scowled. For some reason, Gilbert Blythe was always trying to get away from her- no matter _how_ engaging she worked at being. Still, she wasn't done yet.

"Well, since you _are_ home for a season, especially if your father doesn't end up walking again, does that mean you will be free for the New Year's dance at the hall this year?" She attempted a winning smile, and for a moment she thought she might have succeeded when she saw Gilbert's eyes light up.

"I didn't think they were doing one this year." he commented.

"Oh, they are. Father made them reconsider after the last town meeting. It's really a disgrace that a town like this couldn't scrape up the funds to amuse the young people of the town better." She looked at him cagily. "So does that mean you are free to take me?" She watched an amused look flit across Gilbert's handsome face. Really, he _was_ the most handsome of the Avonlea men right now.

"Actually Josie, I believe I'll be taking Anne." he said thoughtfully, and an ugly look crossed her face.

"Oh, _really_ , Gilbert. Anne thinks she's too good for the likes of this town. I wonder that she even returns for the holidays. I don't see why you should bother with _her_. She has that rich Kingsport man that she threw you over for, anyway." she reminded him cruelly. To her dismay Gilbert's smile only grew, and he fixed her with the cocky look of a schoolboy.

"You know Josie; I still reckon I like my chances. I'll be seeing you."

At this, he hit the reins, and Josie watched the buggy move off, her jaw still hanging in surprise.

Gilbert drove off, his mind working furiously. So if the _Sloanes_ knew something, the Pye's certainly _didn't_ yet. That was a good sign. However, he had wasted enough time, he would need to head over to Green Gables sooner rather than later- if Anne hadn't told Marilla yet, he didn't want the news coming from somewhere else in the meantime. Honestly, what were they _thinking_ , to not write home immediately?

* * *

After supper that night, Gilbert walked out of the front door in the suit his mother had insisted on his wearing for the occasion. She was still brushing it down as he went, and instructing him on the finer points of social etiquette with regards to asking for your intended's hand. Gilbert's father only chuckled, protesting that all Marilla would want to know is that the two of them loved each other- something that would be blindingly obvious.

He took a deep breath as he walked up the familiar path, finally alone with his thoughts. He _was_ nervous, he had to admit to himself. It wasn't that he thought she would say no- no; his fears were more subtle than that. Offering himself as some kind of prize- a student without an income, reliant on scholarships to ease his way, for what would already be more than a three-year engagement. A man with big ambitions, who often feared he would have to let them go in the cold face of reality. Doggedly he set his feet on the path though- Anne was at the end of it. She had always been there; she was the prize he ultimately worked for. All he could tell her guardian was that.

At the other end of his journey, Gilbert stood in front of the door to Green Gables waiting for- well, he wasn't actually sure what he was waiting for. Something to occur to him, no doubt. He had been planning this particular conversation for a long time- how had every single word fled him so easily? And so the lack of knocking continued, until Marilla Cuthbert opened the door to step out, letting out a sharp cry of surprise at his inexplicable presence.

Marilla sized the boy up with a startled look. "Gilbert, what on _earth_ are you doing here?" she said, her hand on her heart. When the boy only floundered to speak, she continued, trying to recover her equilibrium. "Gilbert, Anne isn't home for almost a week." she said, perplexed.

"Yes, Miss Cuthbert, that's why I'm here." he said, in a feeble attempt to recall the purpose of the said visit.

Marilla looked at him curiously. "I see. I hope your father is recovering well, Gilbert?"

He smiled. "He is. He's not enjoying being an invalid, and my mother is hard pressed to keep him from leaping out of bed every morning- however he is getting better."

Marilla smiled. "Yes, that does sound like your father, Gilbert. Now, what can I do for you? Would you like to come in for some tea with us after I finish the chores?" she asked cordially.

Gilbert gave a little smile. "I'd actually hoped to speak with you alone, if I could." he admitted, and Marilla nodded.

"Rachel is visiting someone, and Davy is at Ralph Andrews' house for a bonfire until tomorrow. Dora is the only one at home, and you know how quiet she is."

Gilbert laughed. "Well, I don't need to fear Dora giving anything away like I would the others. How about I assist you with the chores? Dad's had me working so hard that I'm almost as quick as I used to be."

Marilla chuckled and showed him where to find the food for the animals.

Half an hour later, Dora served them both tea in the little kitchen and took herself into the parlour to read.

Gilbert had relaxed a little by now, however, some of his nerves returned in the stillness after Dora left. The silence lengthened as he stirred his tea distractedly. He had rarely been here without Anne, and certainly not to do what he was about to do. As Marilla watched him calmly, Gilbert began to sweat, momentarily second guessing himself. Was he supposed to have already proposed by this point? Was it consent to marry he was supposed to be after, or permission to ask?

"Marilla smiled. "Gilbert, whatever it is you wish to say, I suggest that you simply jump in," she said comfortably.

He laughed then, feeling foolish, but chose to do as she suggested.

"I suppose this would be more natural if I hadn't been absent for the last two years." he said at last. "I would guess that you figured out why I stopped visiting."

Marilla sighed. "Yes." she said simply. "If you will permit me to say it, I was very sorry."

Gilbert nodded, the words sticking in his throat.

"Miss Cuthbert, I believe Anne has written to you that we have- well, that she and I- that we are-" he faltered.

Marilla smiled. "That things are the way they were between the two of you?"

Gilbert's relief was obvious. "Yes. We've spent most of this term together, in fact. It's- it's been wonderful." He sighed. "Miss Cuthbert, I need to ask you a question- and I need to ask for your forgiveness for not asking you properly last time.

Marilla's eyes widened, however she stayed silent.

"I would like to ask for your consent to propose to Anne once again," he said quietly. "I love her, and I always have. When I proposed last time I jumped in because I was afraid of losing her- and I spoke too soon, and she refused me. She also didn't believe she felt anything for me beyond friendship. You know how the rest of that played out."

The older woman nodded, her eyes showing her regret.

"I made a lot of mistakes back then, and I realised that even if she had consented, I should have spoken to you first. For that, I'm sorry."

Marilla shook her head. "Gilbert, I don't believe you need to apologise. And you must have known that I would never refuse if you loved her. I do however want to know how it has come about that you are going to ask her again." she said slowly. "I wouldn't want you to go through the same thing again."

His smile then was genuine. "That's the other reason I'm here. It was our plan to speak to both of our families when we came home at Christmas; however, I didn't want gossip from Redmond to get there before we did." His face flushed, and he floundered a little. "Anne said that she didn't want to tell you in a letter, she wanted us to do it in person."

Marilla sat up, a sudden gleam in her eye. "Gilbert, have you and Anne reached an understanding?" she asked quickly. His bright grin was answer enough, and she let out an obvious sigh of relief. "Well, it's about time." she said, drolly.

Gilbert smiled, and then he took a deep breath. "It is. Miss Cuthbert, there's just one other thing that I wanted to tell you myself. It concerns the night of the storm after Diana and Fred's wedding."

Marilla looked perplexed. "The night Anne took refuge at the schoolhouse?" she asked, unable to fathom why it was relevant.

Gilbert looked at her, his face serious. "She wasn't alone that night. I was there with her." He saw her brow contract, a worried look on her face. "We were both coming home from opposite directions- I was coming from the Wrights, and she was returning from the shore. We arrived at the same time, and were well and truly stuck together." He fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt, before continuing. "The reason Anne didn't tell you, was because she was so upset by what happened that night." He looked at Marilla then, his shoulders sagging. "I said a lot of things I shouldn't have, and hurt her terribly. And not just then. For the fourteen months we were apart we seemed to hurt each other constantly. I think we lost something of ourselves without each other." he stated, his voice sober.

Marilla sighed, having seen the truth of that in Anne herself. "I think you may be right."

Gilbert paused to rub a hand over his face. "The one good thing that happened that night, was that we started to tell each other the truth. I had never stopped loving her. But I became very good at covering that up to prevent myself from getting hurt; and then she thought that I didn't care about her at all. I didn't know how much she was hurting over what happened between us. I didn't think she cared about me either-"

Marilla looked at him, disbelievingly, and went to protest.

"-and I found out I was wrong." he said, with a sigh. "It was one of the worst nights of our lives. But we came out of that night knowing that we _did_ care for each other." He looked across at Marilla and answered the question she would not ask. "Miss Cuthbert, you have my word that nothing inappropriate happened that night between us; although as you can imagine, it would be seen so if anyone in town were to find out about it. By sheer chance, we had food and a fire to keep us warm. I saw that she was safe, and-" here Gilbert gave a dry smile- "and then we started yelling at each other." He smiled wryly. "Actually, quite a lot. It was very late at night and still raining heavily when we finally went to sleep, and we woke up to get home as soon as we could. Anne assumed she wouldn't see me again- when we parted she was as distraught as I was, the reason she didn't tell you at the time." he said honestly.

Marilla suddenly remembered Anne as she had been that morning, white and shaking. Her clothing dishevelled, and unable to answer more than the most basic questions. Looking, Marilla realised now, as if she had lost someone of incalculable value. She sighed, her heart grieving over the hard pathway this pair had seemed to need to take.

"So you both told no one that you were there that night?" she asked.

"I understand Anne wrote to Diana about it a few months ago; the only one I spoke to was my father that same morning. He listened to me talk for a time, and I told him everything." Gilbert said quietly.

Marilla gave a little sigh of relief and tried to gather her thoughts. "And did you- was there any intention to head into a relationship at that stage?" she asked, her voice crisp.

"No." He looked her in the eyes then. "All we established was that we were both hurting as much as each other. She thought I was moving to England, and I thought she was with Roy. And within a few days of the storm, neither of those things were true. We returned to Redmond, and we started again. We began to spend time together, to rebuild our friendship. As time went on, I began to wonder if she could possibly feel for me as I did for her." Gilbert smiled then. "And a few weeks ago, I found out that she did. The reason I wanted to tell you all of this, is because if I am asking for her hand, I am asking for your trust." He said, his voice sincere. "I'm asking you to trust me to provide for her, to look after her as she deserves for the rest of our lives. I promise that I will do everything I can to protect her and keep her safe. I love her more than anything in this world, and I know that she loves me as well."

Marilla sat back, astounded at all that had taken place. Was it possible that all would be well, after all this time? Reflecting on what he had shared, she sighed. He could so easily have left this secret, and as uncomfortable a revelation as it was, she knew he would have behaved as a gentleman. And he had only spoken to John.

"Well." she said, some of her briskness returning. "I suppose we just need to wait until Anne is at home now."

Gilbert chuckled. "I have no doubt that Anne will tell you a far more detailed story, she's much better at that than me. And I'm sorry it had to be me who told you about us, I know Anne would have preferred to do it herself. However, as I board with Charlie Sloane, who began to suspect something was happening some time ago…"

Marilla raised one eyebrow. "Oh dear. And if _Charlie_ knew-" she trailed.

"Yes. Then Mrs Sloane would too. She indicated as much to me today." he said, comically. "Hence me not waiting until we were back here together."

"Well, I am glad to hear it from one of you, at least. And of course you have my consent. If I may say so, I think the two of you are meant to be together." she added.

A load seemed to fall off Gilbert's shoulders, his relief visible to the woman across from him.

She gave him an amused look then. "Better?"

He laughed. "Much better." He folded his arms, and grinned at her engagingly. "I told my parents as well, my mother is trying to organise Christmas plans already."

There was step outside, and the two of them turned to the kitchen doorway in surprise. Mrs Lynde had returned, and drew the pins out of her hat as she looked in surprise at the _tete-a-tete_ at the kitchen table.

"Why, Gilbert Blythe! I did wonder if you would be able to come back so soon after the accident- although it's no wonder you were worried; your father is hardly a young man anymore. He'll be lucky if he can ever climb a ladder again, I think. I wonder at your mother for allowing him to do it in the first place." Her hat and coat on the hook, she donned an apron that was hanging over the chair, and began to stoke the fire. "I must say, Gilbert, you have certainly gained some ground since last summer, I thought for certain that you were studying yourself into an early grave. I spoke to your mother about that at the time, however she brushed off my concerns with a worrying confidence. Well, thanks be to heaven that you children can give up this foolishness soon, the school year is almost over." she said affably. She fixed Gilbert then with a beady eye. "And to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit? I don't suppose it was mere neighbourliness."

Gilbert looked at Marilla, who coughed slightly. "I spoke to Anne shortly before I left Kingsport, she gave me a message for Marilla," he said evenly.

"Yes, Rachel. Anne will arrive home on the seventeenth."

"Well, we already knew _that,_ " Rachel said, with a frown. "I thought it must have been something important. You'd think she could simply write that in her letters- they're certainly long enough."

Marilla stood up then. "Thank you, Gilbert, I do appreciate you stopping. Please give my regards to your parents, and tell them I am glad your father is improving so quickly. I'll see you out, shall I?"

Rachel looked in surprise as Marilla hustled Gilbert out the door, and walked him down towards the gate.

"You do realise she was mere minutes away from asking about you and Anne, don't you?" she said as they walked, amused. "And unless you have a better poker face than I think you do, she would have had the news out by morning. I thought it best to remove you first."

Gilbert laughed. "Well, she'll know soon enough. She can have her fun then."

Marilla turned to go, and then to her own surprise and his, reached out to give the young man a short, restrained hug.

"Thank you, Gilbert. I am very happy for the two of you." she said stiffly, and turned quickly to make her way back up the path to the house.

Gilbert stood still for a moment, still in shock. He had _done_ it. He had Marilla's blessing, and had only to ask the woman he loved now. He headed back down the lane with a slight smile, still in shock at Marilla's brief show of affection.

Anne would _never_ believe him.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

The night before the Anne was due to leave Kingsport, Anne found herself at loose ends. She had completed her work and packed her bags, and was now chafing inwardly at the time that must pass before she could be on her way. Anne came down the stairs and sat herself on her favourite chair, kicking her slippers off restlessly.

She pulled from her pocket Gilbert's latest letter with a smile. He had written almost daily, and she treasured the words of affection that he so liberally bestowed on her. His letters were filled too with the news she craved of their loved ones, and little deeper glimpses of his own heart that she treasured. She opened the pages to read again, smiling at his familiar tone.

"…. _It appears gossip has been busy; all I can say is that I am relieved I got to our families before Sloanism did. I owe Charlie one for that. My mother is already asking that you spend a part of Christmas day with us, pending Marilla's approval of course. You see darling, I told you not to worry, I'll be lucky if she hasn't told all of the neighbours of our joy by Christmas day._

 _It's funny that we have never needed letters before to communicate- if you don't count the ones we used to pass in AVIS meetings when Charlie was making one of his speeches. Your most recent arrived this morning (after daily haunting of the post box), so thank you. I only wish you weren't writing from in front of the fire, but were in front of the fire with me right now instead. I'm sure your pen wouldn't have a chance to do anything then. Still, the picture of you there is a lovely one._

 _I'm glad to hear you are writing stories once more, perhaps without me around you will get a little more done! I plan on distracting you in less than a week, so you'd better get working now, Miss Shirley. I will only share you reluctantly, I'm afraid._

 _Dad is recovering well, although we keep finding minor injuries that the more serious ones had masked. Scratches, cuts and the like. The doctor has said he can get up next week, although we are cautioned to take it very slowly. Uncle Dave came for a quick visit to check on him, he told me this is excellent practice for my future. If I could leave out mucking out the animal pens, I might agree! After a week of running the farm, I think I am qualified to state that I prefer the life of an academic. This would drive me crazy after a while, Anne-girl._

 _It's around nine-o-clock at night now, and Mother is just setting the bread for the morning. Dad is asleep, so I haven't been sent outside to check on the animals in an hour- I can assure you they are warmer than I am- but not better fed. Mother still equates food with love, so she's been force-feeding me since I got here. And you were right, she didn't like the haircut._

 _I called at Green Gables again today, and got to catch up with rest of the household. Davy is getting tall, he and Dora are now the same age you were when you met me! Although Dora certainly doesn't have your personality- she barely looked up from her shoes the whole time I was there. I suppose it will take her a little while to get to know me again. I still remember you bringing her to the Sunday school picnic when she was only six, and having her hide from me in your skirts._

 _Mrs Lynde assures me that my constitution must be fickle, since I have altered after the summer. She told me cheerfully that Ma's family were all sickly, and that I should avoid anything that would put stress on my seemingly delicate health. Even if I were to tell her what made the difference, I doubt it would change her mind that I am evidently meant for the grave._

 _I miss you darling girl, and can't wait to see you in just a few days' time. Marilla is happy for me to come and get you, since the almanac is predicting snow on the weekend. I can assure you, I would have been there to meet you in any case- this has been the longest of fortnights. I'm glad you are missing me as I miss you, and I can't wait to hold you close again._

 _Love, Gilbert._

A sudden step behind her made her jump.

"And you're reading your love letters _again_? I'm shocked." Phil said suddenly, poking her head over the edge of the little chair to ruffle Anne's hair.

Anne sat up flushing, tucking the letter away from Phil's eyes.

"So, what kind of letter writer does the ever-practical Mr Blythe make?" Phil asked her cheekily.

Anne smiled, unable to hide her blush or the sparkle in her eye. "A wonderful one, actually. I couldn't wish for better. But this is one letter you are _not_ seeing." She sat up then, surveying the girl behind her. "And how about you? Are you all ready for the Gordon and Byrne family Christmas? Or should I ask if _Jo_ is prepared?" she teased. "Aren't they all coming to inspect the young man who is stealing away their favourite daughter?"

Phil laughed, taking a seat on the little sofa. "Indeed. However, I'm not afraid. Jo is such a dear, I fear that they may even end up liking him more than they like me." she said drolly. "In which case they may ask him if _he_ could do any better."

"You know that won't happen, dear. I hope you have a lovely time. Do you leave much longer after we do?" Anne asked.

Phil yawned. "Father is coming to get me tomorrow afternoon, so I won't be here for long. I'm glad Aunt Jimsie's family is coming here for Christmas, I can't bear to think of her being lonely."

Soon Priscilla and Stella came to join them, and Anne looked at them with a little smile. This would be the last time they would part for Christmas break, and with a small ache in her heart she realised that they would return only once more to the little house on Spottford Avenue. In the wake of finished assignments and all chores completed, the four girls settled down for a night of laughter and shared confidences over cocoa, of teasing and earnest discussions of the future. When the midnight hour struck on the clock over the mantelpiece, they went to their rooms, and snuggled down in their warm beds dreaming happily of Yuletide and home.

* * *

Standing at the station exactly two weeks after she had said goodbye to Gilbert, Anne stood on her tiptoes looking for the arrival of the train. Stella and Priscilla had given up trying to make decent conversation with her, and were talking unhurriedly on the little bench. Charlie and Moody were the first people to come across her line of vision, and she greeted them with what she hoped was a cool detached manner. She was fairly sure she had failed when the two young men looked at each other strangely, and went to join the other ladies.

"Is there a reason she looked straight through us?" Charlie asked Stella, somewhat huffily.

Stella giggled. "Charlie, you're lucky she even acknowledged your existence. Leave her alone, she'll be alright once she gets back to the Island."

"I don't see _how_." he grumbled. "It's only Avonlea."

Priscilla rolled her eyes. "She wants to get back to Gilbert. It _has_ been two weeks."

The goggle eyes looked at her seriously, making the girl laugh. "Don't look like that, Charlie. You know what's been going on with those two." she said, chuckling.

He looked morose. "That's no reason to snub others. I don't know what on earth she sees in him. He's not anywhere near as exceptional as people think he is."

"No, I suppose you don't." Stella said, rolling her eyes. "However, never mind, I think that is the train now."

Only half an hour later, the train was steaming away from the city, and Anne was finally able to draw a breath. She watched the countryside changing, and oblivious to the chattering from her classmates, she was able to think in solitude. She traced little patterns in the misty windows of the carriage, while she attempted to sort through her disordered mind.

Phil had been twitting her about her state of melancholy since Gilbert had left Kingsport, and Anne was becoming annoyed at herself as well. What right had she to be miserable, forlorn because she was separated from him for a mere fortnight? She had lived without him in her life for a year and a half- this could be _nothing_ to the pain of separation.

She had wanted to mope- she had wanted to stay home every evening and simply miss him. To forget her studies and her housemates, and wallow in the strange happiness of longing for her beloved.

Phil's comments had made her sit up though- was it possible that Anne Shirley had lost her independence? That she had become so reliant on the man that she loved that she had forgotten how to live in the meantime, not making the most of the opportunities that they had worked so hard for?

And so she had not allowed herself to give in to the impulse. She had spoken with her lecturers about her intention to attain High Honours in English, and spent time with her writing. She attended evening lectures by visiting speakers, and worked for several evenings on the Interdisciplinary Debate. She had spent happy evenings with the girls talking and laughing around the fireplace- and if they had noticed a distracted look in her eye, and the way she clung to a certain scarf, they didn't say anything.

There was a place deep inside though, that saw how futile it was to deny the truth- she could work her fingers to the bone, however it was also apparent that her heart was now wherever a curly haired, hazel eyed young man was. The future that had begun to take shape when she understood his heart was one in which they could work and dream together, where they would never again be separated.

Anne sighed. It couldn't be a reality yet. Right now they seemed to exist in a strange limbo, where future plans depended on so many things- on scholarships, on opportunities, even on their own desires. Their knowledge of each other was deeper than most, and yet so much was still unspoken. Did he really want the future with her that lately she had dreamed of? Of a life together, children, a home of their own? Ambition had driven them both for so long, and they had encouraged each other to excel- was there even a way for those things to coexist?

Anne closed her eyes. Gilbert had said he wished to discuss the future, and she had said that she would wait. Surely she could not now be so impatient when Gilbert's father had so recently been in danger.

Anne remembered with a smile the very first time she had seen John Blythe. Some weeks into her arrival at Green Gables, Anne had begun to wander the spring pathways around the Avonlea countryside. She was wearing the dress she had arrived from the orphanage in, and had tried to make it beautiful with a sash of early summer ferns around her scrawny waist. Thus arrayed, she skipped down the laneway and stopped abruptly. Across from her was a green and grey house with an apple orchard at the side, and a man sitting high in the nearest tree amongst the late blossoms, while a ladder lay flat on the ground next to him.

Anne had only recently been schooled by Marilla in not annoying strangers with her prattle, and Anne now paused, unsure of what to do. Eventually she decided to follow her curiosity and approach.

"Excuse me sir, do you need your ladder?" she asked, her young voice pulling John Blythe from his distraction.

He had blinked twice at the strange apparition of the odd looking child before him, with some of the reddest hair he had ever seen. Had he been one to listen to gossip, he would have known who the enigma was- as it was, he was quite clueless.

"I knocked it down when I got into the tree, young lady." he said, his mouth curving into a teasing smile. "I don't suppose you could stand it up for me, could you?"

Anne's little face had lit up, and she began to talk at her normal pace as she awkwardly moved the ladder. "Of course! I don't suppose dropping it was exactly a plan of yours, was it? Matthew is starting to let me help him a little with the chores; of course if I was a boy I could help him some _more_ , however Marilla says it wouldn't be ladylike to do some of the things he does. There are an awful lot of things that aren't ladylike, I have discovered, however I can't quite see how doing something that would help someone would be considered like that."

By the time she had finished this speech, John had come down the ladder slowly and unsteadily.

"Sir, are you alright?" she asked then, her large grey eyes watching him cautiously. He chuckled then.

"I'm still recovering from the trip home, I suppose. I thought I'd prune some branches while I still had some afternoon light. If you hadn't come along I would have had to wait until the family got back."

Her big mouth curved into a bright smile. "Oh, I'm glad I could help you then. While apple trees are lovely, I imagine a bed is much better to sleep in when you've only just returned from a long trip."

John picked up the ladder and the bag of tools he had placed beside the tree, and walked them to the little shed, the chattering girl following him along from outside the fence. The memory of what she had said came back to him, and John turned to face the child with a curious smile.

"I'm sorry, little lady, did you say Matthew and Marilla? Are you staying with them? he asked queerly.

Anne gave a little laugh. "I am. And I think I might be staying for good now and be adopted, if only I can keep out of trouble. Marilla says she never knew a child who could get into trouble like I can- although I don't exactly mean to. There are so many different types of trouble that I never knew about, you see." she said earnestly.

John began to laugh, picturing the staid Marilla with this freckled fairy of a child. He sized her up with a slight grin.

"Well, since you rescued me, are you going to tell me your name?"

"Oh, I'm just Anne." she said blithely.

"Well, ' _just Anne_ ', it's nice to meet you. I'm sure we will be seeing each other around. You'll probably be meeting the rest of my family soon."

Anne turned to him with a big smile. "Thank you, I'm sure I will!" She waved at him, and turned quickly to run into the woods across from the farm. John Blythe watched her go with a bemused smile, wondering if he had in fact imagined the entire episode.

* * *

The train chugged over a little bridge, and Anne opened her eyes to watch them pass over the river. Her eyes twinkled, remembering the encounter. She had not seen Mr Blythe again until after the slate incident, and had been mortified to learn that her new enemy was the nice man's son. When she and Gilbert had become friends she had often been a visitor in the Blythe home, and she realised that John would most likely have expected this outcome long ago.

In Charlottetown, they parted with Stella and Priscilla. Stella's father was there to collect two tired girls, and Priscilla would travel with the Maynards to their home to be collected by her family the next day. It was late afternoon when the remaining three boarded the train for Bright River, and the sun was already sinking low in the winter sky.

* * *

Not many miles away, a man stood outside Bright river station, impatiently watching for the westbound train to arrive. According to the station clock, the train would be in any moment, and as Gilbert restlessly paced before the waiting rooms, his mind was drawn to a different arrival in that spot over six months ago. He had stepped onto the platform back then in pain and defeat, little suspecting the bend in the road that awaited him not one day later. The man who stood there now did so with a healed and full heart, eagerly awaiting the one he had loved for so long.

Then he heard the whistle in the distance, and stood watching as the train slowly and noisily pulled into the little station. Few passengers used the little branch line, and at first Gilbert only saw Moody and Charlie alight from the train, nodding courteously at their tightly wound classmate, and moving off to greet their respective fathers. His eyes scanned the train windows in the darkness, eagerly looking for any sign of her. A porter appeared in the doorway then, assisting a young woman onto the platform, and a heavenly smile broke on his face. She turned her red head, now a deep copper in the winter moonlight, and her smile was bright as he crossed the platform in big strides to take his girl in his arms, laughing and swinging her around.

Gilbert held her close triumphantly, and her hands stroked the sides of his face.

"You've grown more lovely." he said.

"And _you've_ become more handsome." Anne countered, with a laugh. "You must tell me how you did it, dearest."

Suddenly aware that Moody and Charlie were waiting to say goodbye, Gilbert put a pink-cheeked Anne down, and the two of them moved to collect her bags from the trolley, where Charlie was still waiting.

"You might have told us you were getting her, Gilbert. You could have given us all a lift back home." Charlie said, his voice showing his opinion of Gilbert's thoughtlessness.

Gilbert looked at Anne, her grey eyes sparkling in the light of the lanterns, and a satisfied smile covered his face.

"I forgot to mention that? That _was_ careless. I must work on that." he commented, amused at Charlie' short-sightedness. Looking at the tender light in Anne's eyes, Gilbert felt it was time to leave. "Charles, it's been a long day for you all. I should be getting Anne home now, or Marilla might worry. I'll be seeing you later."

He had her bags in another moment, and her gloved hand was in his as they crossed the little road.

Anne was a little surprised at the speed of their departure. He placed her into the waiting buggy and was at her side in another moment. As the horses began to move, a little smile sat on her thoughtful face. She watched his beloved face, his frank hazel eyes turning to her every now and then to smile at her.

"I was a little concerned you and I would make a scandal of ourselves on the platform." she ventured at last. "I suppose we have more sense than I gave us credit for."

Gilbert gave her a sly grin. "If you think _that_ was your greeting, I suggest you think again, Miss Shirley." he replied, his eyes twinkling. "Once out of sight of the upright citizens of our town, I plan on losing ourselves on the road for exactly as long as it takes to show you how much I missed you." He looked at her then in the moonlight, her eyes holding a tenderness in them that he had once only ever dreamed of. He leant over to place a swift kiss on her cheek in the darkness.

She tucked her hand closely under his arm and leant in close so that her lips tickled his ear.

"You'd better allow some extra time then, Mr Blythe." she said softly. "I believe I have some things that I need to show you too."


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

In a wooded hollow on the outskirts of Newbridge, the horse and buggy had been parked in a little-used laneway, protected on both sides by a dense wood. The horse was puzzled by the abrupt halt on its way to bed and rest, and tugged on the reins impatiently. The driver in question had almost forgotten the presence of the animal, and held onto the reins in a way that indicated his attentions were much more pleasantly occupied.

Anne's arms were wound around Gilbert's neck, his arms wrapped around her waist as far as they could go from where he sat.

"Did you miss me?" she asked breathlessly between kisses. His only answer was a deep sigh that made her giggle. Her hat had been knocked off several minutes ago, and Gilbert's curls were in decided disarray as well. Anne laughed and kissed him sweetly again.

Gilbert suddenly frowned. "It's really not fair. We only had two weeks to figure out how to _do_ that, and then we had to be apart for two weeks."

"It did _not_ take us two weeks to figure out how to kiss." Anne reminded him cheekily. "It probably _should_ have, but then we've always been quick learners." He laughed then too, and bent to retrieve the neglected hat.

"I really should get you home." he said reluctantly. "Mrs Lynde will be afraid that we have done- well, exactly what we _did_ do." He quickly kissed her cheek and grinned. When the disgruntled horse was once again allowed to move, Gilbert's arm was around his girl, and she snuggled into his side contentedly.

"Are you prepared for the multitude of plans that have been made on your behalf now?" he teased, laughing when Anne's eyebrow raised suspiciously.

"Making plans for me, sir? Isn't that a little presumptuous?"

"Oh, not by _me_. I wouldn't dare. Our elders have no qualms about it, though. We have a dinner with my family, and another with yours, Diana and Fred, there are Christmas meals to decide on, a New Year's dance, and then I have a few little plans that _I_ would like to see happen." he said firmly. "And they don't involve anyone except _us_."

Anne's eyes were fixed on him with contentment. "As long as we're together, I don't mind. And like you, I want to spend some time just on our own."

Gilbert bent to kiss her forehead tenderly. "I'll make sure of that."

More than an hour after the train had arrived, Anne ran up the stairs of Green Gables and straight into Marilla's arms with a glad cry. Marilla held Anne close for long moments, before pulling back to look at her girl's face. She stared in wonder at the starry look in Anne's eyes and at Gilbert, who came up behind her with her bags. As Marilla watched the bright glance that went between the young couple she smiled.

"You know Gilbert, if you hadn't have told me, I still would have known." Marilla said dryly. "Everyone's so glad you're home, Anne. Come in now, I don't want either of you getting a chill. I have some tea on the stove."

She held the door open and ushered the pair inside.

"Oh, it's so lovely to be home!" Anne said with a happy sigh. "I've missed you all so much this term, and there is so much to tell you!"

"I think I already heard the biggest news." Marilla commented with a slight chuckle. "Although no doubt there is a much longer story that is waiting to be told."

Davy and Dora soon came down, both with a big hug for Anne. Dora's smile was a little shyer than usual, no doubt owing to Gilbert's presence. Anne looked at her in amazement, beginning to see a girl on the verge of growing up, and held her a little tighter than usual. Davy was not to be held back for long, and almost bowled his sister over in his enthusiasm. Anne laughed to see his eye level had risen much closer to her own over the term, and at the way he stood a little taller as he talked with a relaxed Gilbert.

Mrs Lynde then hustled down from her rooms, her beady eyes fixed on confirming the rumours that she had heard. If it was happening, she _must_ know. After all, how dared Almira Sloane know supposed things about this pair than she herself did? Marilla had refused to enter into any discussion on the matter, maintaining to her that Avonlea gossip surely had better things to discuss.

Rachel peered at Anne and Gilbert, and after a few moments she appeared to be swelling with impatience. Marilla sipped her tea impassively and the twins were unruffled by any suspicion, and still Rachel's eyes grew larger, watching Anne and Gilbert talk unhurriedly about college life with the others.

"As fascinating as your work is," she interrupted at last, "isn't there anything _else_ we should perhaps be knowing?" she finally said, her voice tight with suppressed curiosity as she looked between the pair.

Anne's cheeks flushed, and she glanced at Gilbert, imploring him with her eyes to not tell Mrs Lynde of their relationship in the same manner he had informed the women of Patty's Place. His eyes were twinkling, however it was with perfect courtesy that Gilbert picked up Anne's hand in his own, and bestowed on it a gentle kiss that made the good lady's eyes widen.

"Mrs Lynde, Anne has made me the happiest fellow in the world, by returning my love." He waited until she had closed her mouth some moments later, and continued. "We wished to tell our two households first, which is why we have waited until now."

Marilla looked on proudly, as Davy let out a happy yell, and Dora in a rare show of emotion clasped her hands together with a big smile.

Rachel folded her arms triumphantly. "Well, it is about time you came to your senses, Anne. I've said all along that Gilbert was eating his heart out over you, and no _wonder_ with you chasing that Kingsport fellow-." Rachel began.

Gilbert's hand closed over Anne's tightly, seeing the reserved look that passed over her face at Rachel's tactless words.

"We came together at the right time, Mrs Lynde." he said, gently cutting her off. "I don't wish it any different. We are however very happy to be able to share it with those we love now."

"Well, if the two of you are happy enough then the rest of us may as well be." she said reluctantly. "And I dare say every relationship has _some_ troubles getting to the point. When are you announcing your engagement?"

Marilla stepped in at this point, before a shell-shocked Anne or Gilbert could respond. "Rachel, I have no doubt that we will be notified of any developments as soon as they happen. Now, Gilbert, how is your father today?"

The moment of uncomfortableness passed, and after visiting with the family a little longer Gilbert stood, seeing Anne trying to suppress a yawn. Marilla ushered the twins upstairs, and ignoring Mrs Lynde's suspicious glances, Anne walked out with Gilbert.

"I'm sorry-" each said to the other at the same time, and they both chuckled. Gilbert's arms came around Anne, and he kissed the top of her bare head.

"And what are _you_ sorry for?" he asked, holding her close to himself.

"I'm so sorry about Rachel, Gil. I don't want you to think I'm pushing-" she faltered, and stopped. "I'm so grateful that we understand each other now, and I don't want her words to affect you, or be forced to answer her completely inappropriate questions." she said, feeling embarrassed.

He leaned himself against the side of the buggy, pulling her against him. When she sighed and began to relax, he spoke to her softly.

"I'm only sorry you have nothing to tell yet." She lifted her head, worried, and his hands came up to her cheeks. He was smiling, and completely unconcerned. "Our future- and you have no idea how wonderful it is to say that with confidence- _our future-_ is something I spend a lot of time dreaming about. And I am going to be asking you soon." he said frankly, his hazel eyes looking at hers with love. "But that is going to be a moment that _only_ belongs to the two of us, so we need to get these family meetings out of the way first so we can actually get some time alone."

Anne laughed, and put her arms around him. "As long as you love me, and I love you, everything else can wait. You're right, it's only about us."

Gilbert saw a curtain twitch open, and with a mischievous look in his eye, he bent his head to give her a thoroughly improper kiss.

"I should let you get some sleep. I'll be by in the morning." He held her tightly and sighed. "You know what I discovered?"

"Mmm?" Anne said, her head on his shoulder.

"Avonlea without you is just a place. _You_ make it home."

Her smile was huge, and with one hand in his brown curls, she pulled herself up on her toes to kiss him again.

"You know she's watching us, don't you?" Gilbert murmured, and he laughed at the wicked smile that came to Anne's face.

"Well then, hadn't we better make it worth it?" she said innocently, before her attentions wiped every thought from his mind blissfully for many minutes to come.

Mrs Lynde pulled the curtains shut on the shameless pair, resolving to talk to Marilla about it first thing in the morning. The two young classmates deserved their happiness, she was not so ungenerous as to deny them that. It was a union she had long foretold, and she would delight in holding her head high before the ill-natured gossips who had commented on Anne's singleness.

Still, there were times and places, and Miss Shirley should be well aware of that. She stalked upstairs shaking her head at the modern youth, conveniently forgetting some of the escapades she and a young Thomas Lynde had once gotten up to in the back of her father's orchard, way back in the mists of time.

* * *

When Anne came downstairs the next morning, it was still early. Marilla was preparing rolls for the hot oven, and Anne laid the tea tray as she had done so often before. Marilla watched her with a little smile, enjoying being able to work together again.

"The school term seems to get longer each time you go away." Marilla commented. "It's real good to have you home for a few weeks now. When do you and Gilbert go back?"

Anne pushed a lock of hair back from her face. "Not for three weeks. Teaching officially begins on the tenth, so we will all be heading back on the seventh, giving us a few days extra if we need them."

Together they sat down at the table, and Anne poured a cup for each of them in the stillness of early morning at Green Gables.

Marilla looked across at Anne, thoughtful. "I feel as if I have never seen you truly happy before, child."

Anne laughed. "Oh, I think I've often been happy, Marilla. But with Gilbert- it's more than that." she said, unable to explain any further.

Marilla studied the sensitive face that had grown more lovely over the years; more mature, and yet still showing the many emotions that came so naturally to the girl.

"Gilbert came to see me a week ago." Marilla said after a moment, picking up her cup. "I was very pleased that he took the time to come and let me know about the two of you." A remorseful look came to Anne's face, but before she could speak Marilla cut her off. "He explained that he was telling me on behalf of the two of you, as gossip was filtering its way through Avonlea faster than you yourself would arrive." she added dryly.

Anne chuckled, her face pink. "Gilbert warned me about that. Did you mind that it wasn't me? Would you have preferred that I wrote?" she asked.

Marilla smiled, amused. "Oh, I think when an upstanding young man comes to your doorstep to ask for your consent to court your adoptive child, that it tells you a good deal about the gentleman. I certainly never had any requests from the other men who sought your attentions."

Anne had to laugh at that. "No, I suppose not. However, there is only one Gilbert."

"And you are to go to his family's house for dinner tonight?"

Anne nodded, some of her worry returning. Marilla caught her look, and shook her head. "I wouldn't be concerned, if I were you, Anne. Cora caught me at the Ladies Aid meeting to make sure it was alright with me for you to come, and asking me what your favourite meals were, and what Christmas plans she could make for you and Gilbert."

Anne sighed and pulled her red braid over her shoulder. "I thought- I thought that since I refused him, she wouldn't forgive me so easily." she said slowly. "You know how upset she was with me, and rightfully so."

Marilla shook her head, her gaze piercing. "No, child. _Not_ rightfully so. However Cora may have felt about it, you had every right to refuse if you weren't sure." Marilla said, startling Anne. "And at that stage you simply weren't. I won't say I wasn't disappointed, but no one else could make that choice for you. And as the Blythes, I think you underestimate what a child's happiness means to a parent." she added. "For example, you didn't think I approved of Mr Gardner, did you?" Anne shook her head. "You're correct. I didn't. Simply put, he didn't make you happy. But whatever you decided, it was your opinion that mattered, not mine."

Anne put her cup on the table. "Roy was very sweet, and a perfect gentleman," she said, her eyes regretful. "But there is no comparison between them- I think I knew that even then."

Marilla sighed, and there was a short silence. "He also told me about the night of the storm," she said slowly.

Anne was surprised, and stared at her adoptive mother for a long moment. "He said that he wanted to be the one who told me." Marilla said, smiling a little at Anne's shock. "He didn't tell you he was going to?" she asked.

Anne shook her head. "I assumed that I would eventually. And you may be sure I would never have wanted Rachel to pronounce on it, for either of our sakes."

Marilla chuckled. "I would imagine not. And Gilbert implied that there may have been some shouting that evening." The look that crossed Anne's face made Marilla laugh, as she groaned.

"Oh, there was. We aren't both extremely stubborn for nothing. However, I don't suppose that so much misunderstanding could be sorted out without _some_ discussion. And we discussed it at the top of our lungs. And cried. I don't think I have ever cried as much as I did that night, or in those months just afterwards." she admitted dryly.

A small smile came to Marilla's face. "Was it worth it?"

"Every bit of it." Anne said with quiet confidence.

The two of them sat talking while the rest of the household awoke. Dora joined the pair of them, and Anne worked to draw Dora into the conversation, remembering herself as an eleven-year-old who was simply desperate to be included. She was beginning to open up a little, talking about the school year, when Davy came inside with a load of wood, Gilbert himself following behind with another.

He crossed the room to Anne's side grinning, after dropping the wood into the box.

"I was going to ask you to come for a walk this morning, however the rain might prevent that."

Anne stood up from the table and took his hand with a smile. "Come into the parlour, then. Once we light the fire it should warm up fairly quickly. Was there anything you wanted me to do first, Marilla?"

The older woman shook her head. "Run along. This is your first day at home; Dora can help me if I need anything." Dora looked up shyly, and nodded. She greeted Gilbert by name, though, and as they walked into the parlour he couldn't help but comment on it with surprise.

Anne chuckled. "She's trying, bless her. Growing up is a terribly hard thing to do, if you remember."

Some time later the little fire blazed happily in the grate, and Anne and Gilbert sat on the sofa talking quietly. His hand was in hers, and Anne rested her head on his shoulder, letting out a contented sigh when he kissed the top of her head.

"I missed you."

"Yes, you said that." he commented with a chuckle. "I missed you too. We're really not good at being apart, are we?"

"No." Anne was silent for a few minutes, and then stood, saying she had to get something. Gilbert sat watching the rain fall outside, wondering how it was possible to be this happy. He would take her to his parents' house in the afternoon. His mother had been flapping around the house since daybreak, even insisting on cleaning and dusting his bedroom. Gilbert had submitted silently, retreating with an unseen grin into a world where Anne would actually get to _see_ inside of that particular room. Oh, if only…. Still, forever was only a question away now.

He'd been working on a plan. Green Gables was always busy, and his own house didn't seem right for such a discussion. It would be snowing by nightfall, and that put long walks in the countryside out of the question. Anne was right, he thought with a chuckle; bring on the warm weather, longer daylight and secret, dappled glades to lose themselves in. Maybe under their apple tree….

He was still thinking of the fun that could be had in secluded places when he heard Anne's light step in the doorway. She came in with two letters and sat beside him cosily.

"And just what are you thinking about?" she asked, intrigued. His grin only grew wider, and he bent to kiss her lingeringly.

"Oh, nothing. Just ' _one day_ ' things." he answered lightly. Her fingers stroked his cheek, and then she turned to face him on the lounge.

"I got some mail last week."

"I can see that."

Anne smiled, her face flushing a little. "I sent some things away shortly after you left to come back here. Some little sketches I had been working on. And I heard back from two of them." she said, her eyes bright.

Gilbert turned to face her on the lounge grinning. " _And_?"

"The Youth's Friend accepted one of my stories, something I wrote years ago when we were teaching." she said, beaming. "They paid me- they want to see more of my work!"

Gilbert laughingly pulled her in for a big hug, his heart almost bursting with pride.

"Anne, I knew you could do it!" he exclaimed. "I've been waiting to see your work in print for years." Anne pulled away a little then, suddenly shy. Gilbert paused, intrigued.

"Sweetheart, what is it?" he whispered.

Anne handed him another piece of paper, her cheeks pink. "I wrote something else a few months ago. A poem."

Gilbert read the kind letter of the magazine editor, a literary journal from a university in America.

"These people are publishing it?" he asked, and Anne nodded, smiling. "Anne, this is wonderful!" he said softly.

She then pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, her cheeks glowing. He watched her carefully, sensing that there was more to this item than it seemed, and Anne handed it to him. Her grey eyes met his tenderly.

"I wrote about you- about us," she whispered. "I couldn't sleep one night, and all I could think about was you. As I was writing I could have sworn it was about friendship- until I found it in my notebook after Diana's letter. And I finally understood what my own words were trying to tell me."

His hazel eyes were dark as he took the page from her. Written across the folded note were the words of Solomon- " _I have found the one whom my soul loves_." Gilbert swallowed, opening the paper with shaking hands and began to read.

It was a few short paragraphs, and yet he felt he would have known it was her voice anywhere. It was her- it was the two of them. His own heart, spoken from the mouth of his beloved.

When he had finished, he didn't look at her right away, reaching up a hand to roughly wipe his eyes. Anne sat frozen, unsure of how he would feel- if she had maybe overstepped in sending something so personal away. All worry fell away when he suddenly wrapped long arms around her, pulling her onto his lap. She laid her cheek against his brown curls, his arms holding her firmly.

"I can't believe you feel that way about me." he said finally. Anne put her hands on his cheeks to make him look at her, her eyes a blaze of green.

"I _always_ felt that way about you, Gilbert Blythe." she said fiercely. "And I will feel that way about you as long as I live."

He brought his lips to hers, needing to show her something of the flood that filled his heart at her words. When she pulled away from him with a sigh, she was smiling.

"So you don't mind that I sent that to a publisher?" she asked, and he broke into a bright grin.

"I think I'm in danger of bursting with pride, actually. How on earth do you write that way, Anne-girl?"

Anne's hand cupped his jaw with a little smile playing on her mouth, and she leaned her head against his with a sigh.

"It's easy, Gilbert." she said candidly. "You make the most wonderful muse."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

As Gilbert led Anne up the laneway to the Blythe farm, he began to laugh at the look of dread that had appeared on her face, and the slowing of her steps.

"Anne, I'm telling you it's fine. What's the worst that could happen?"

Anne scowled at him, pulling the dark woollen scarf around her throat a little tighter. "Well, since you ask, they could throw me from the house, and tell me I am not worthy of you, they could forbid you to see me; or even disinherit you, casting you into the world alone, or worst of all the shock and horror could put your parents into an early grave and you would resent me for all time."

By this point, Gilbert was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes and laughed even harder at Anne who stood on the pathway with folded arms and a furious glare.

"This is not _funny_ , Gilbert!"

He put his arms around her then, trying to sober up. "Sweetheart, I sometimes forget how vivid your imagination is. I can promise you that none of that will happen."

"And what if it does?" she said stubbornly.

Gilbert sighed. "Anne, it's simple- you make me happy, that makes _them_ happy. I swear to you they are. Five minutes with them and you will see that, and you will know that sooner if we _get_ there sooner."

Her brow was still lowered, however it softened when Gilbert kissed her. "Don't _you_ ever feel afraid?" she asked wistfully.

He rested his curly head against hers. "Come on, you _know_ I do, Anne-girl. Marilla, Mrs Lynde and the twins are your family, and I still had to run past that gauntlet. I didn't have any guarantees that they would welcome me, either. But as for my parents, there's only one way to end this, and that is to just get it over with. So keep walking, or I'm carrying you there." he said firmly, with a little twinkle in his eye.

Anne drew herself up, her eyes narrowed. "I doubt that you would get me to agree to that, Mr Blythe."

His grin was huge, as he took her hand in his. "I'm not concerned. I've got some tricks up my sleeve. _Anne_ -" he stated, his voice serious now. "Please trust me?"

After a moment she sighed and began to walk again, her hand tucked warmly under his arm.

Gilbert strode along thoughtfully until a little smile began to blossom, that eventually Anne noticed.

She looked at him suspiciously. "What's so amusing?"

He shrugged, the smile getting bigger. "I was just thinking about getting thrown from the house. I was imagining what we would do."

Anne flushed with embarrassment. "And?"

He pulled her hand up to kiss it. "I'd run away with you right now, and we'd be married by nightfall." He said, his eyes twinkling. "You have to admit; the idea has merit." Anne laughed, her other hand coming to stroke the arm that held hers securely. His sigh was theatrical. "But since my parents _will_ love you, I suppose we'll have to stick with the original plan of college and career first."

* * *

Cora Blythe had been checking the door every five minutes all afternoon, at last managing to drive her patient husband into giving a mild rebuke.

"Cora, if you keep hovering like that, you'll scare the girl away. It's _Anne_. We know her, we saw her grow up. She's been here a thousand times."

"Not like this," Cora said wide-eyed. "Not as our prospective daughter-in-law, as the mother of our possible grandchildren-" she said, her brown eyes huge. "Oh John, think of the dear little grandchildren!"

John laughed. "Steady on now, Gilbert hasn't proposed _yet_."

Cora rolled her eyes. "But he _will_. Oh, goodness, I think I can hear them coming."

When Gilbert opened the front door, he grinned at the sight of his mother hovering nervously in the entryway. He tugged on Anne's hand to pull her through the doorway, and Cora struggled to hold back tears at the sight of the two of them together again. Anne barely had a glimpse of anything else before Cora had enveloped her slight frame in her arms, holding the girl to her as if the last few years had not happened.

After a moment, Gilbert stepped awkwardly around the pair of them, to go and stand near his father, who had a slight smile on his face.

When a few minutes went by with little movement, Gilbert raised one eyebrow at his father. "Should I do anything about that?" he muttered, gesturing at the two women. John chuckled.

"They're fine. Let them get on with it. Do me a favour Gil, help me over to the sofa."

In the hallway, Cora pulled away from Anne at last, chuckling as Anne wiped a little tear from her face. Her own eyes were wet, and her handkerchief came out as well.

"It's so wonderful to have you here again, dear," she said quietly, tucking a red curl behind Anne's ear. "We all missed you."

"Mrs Blythe, I'm so sorry-" she began shakily.

Cora's voice was gentle. "No, it's I who should be sorry. I should never have reacted to you that way. This was between you and Gilbert, and you sorted it out just fine together."

Anne gave a rather choked laugh, and Cora smiled as well. "With a little help from Providence, perhaps. We all need it at times." Her brown eyes twinkled in a manner much like her son's would. "Remind me to tell you just how Gilbert's father and I got together. There was no smooth road then either."

Anne smiled, and Cora reached out to touch her cheek lightly. "You've grown up so much even since your teaching days, dear. Marilla must be so pleased to have you back at home for a time."

Anne chuckled as they moved farther into the cosy sitting room to join Gilbert and his father.

"I think she is, however Davy and Dora and Mrs Lynde keep life busy enough- and Dora is a wonderful help to her."

Cora smiled. "She's a sweet little thing. She was so helpful at the last church social that was organised."

Over supper Anne began to relax, the initial awkwardness done away by the comfortable talk she remembered from years ago. John appeared to be recovering from his accident well, and she watched Gilbert assist his father with very little fuss. She smiled when he adjusted the sling, knowing she was seeing the doctor he would one day become.

Soon after the meal, Gilbert helped his father to his room to sleep, after he claimed with a mischievous grin that young love was exhausting to witness. Cora shook her head at his cheek, and Anne stood to help her take the dishes for the table with a little smile.

"Dear, you know that Gilbert will tease you all of the days of his life. Blythe men don't appear to grow out of it." she said wryly.

Anne laughed. "I think would suit me rather well, actually. I'm afraid I saw far too much misery while I was growing up."

Cora watched her carefully. "Did that make it harder to figure all of this out?"

Anne stopped in shock, having not expected this question from Gilbert's mother.

"I suppose it must have." she answered slowly. "I never saw any happy marriages. And of course, Marilla couldn't have told me any differently." She moved over to the bench with some glasses and saw Cora studying her. Anne let out a big breath. She rarely talked about this with anyone who wasn't Gilbert, and it was a little frightening even now. "I've had to take several psychology courses at Redmond." Cora nodded, wondering how it was relevant.

"One of the lecturers said that the way that a child is raised affects them throughout their lives. I listened to that with some interest, since no one else I know can claim the upbringing I can." she looked at Cora frankly. "It never seemed to make a difference after I came to Green Gables- outwardly, at least. But I have wondered if that was why I ran from Gilbert's and my own feelings for so long. I didn't know that a relationship between a husband and wife included friendship as well as love. I only ever saw couples who were abusive or violent." She looked at Cora, wanting to remove the look of sadness from Cora's face. "I suppose I was a little behind others my age in that respect. But I found a home when I came here. And Marilla and Matthew loved me so much, that it undid some of what I went through." Anne smiled. "The rest of the work was done by Diana- and by your son. I _do_ know that my parents loved each other very much, and they loved me too- I suppose something of that must have protected me until I could come here."

Cora's hand on hers was warm. "Dear, I know it did. They would have adored you, and they would be so proud now. You made Matthew and Marilla so proud and happy. You don't want to know how alone they were until you came, however I remember it well. And you need to know that we're proud of you too."

There were tears in both brown and grey eyes, and Cora pulled Anne into her arms again.

"Is this what I can expect from now on?" Gilbert said standing in the doorway, amused.

Anne pulled away embarrassed, and Cora narrowed her eyes at her son. "Yes. And if I hear any wisecracking about it, I'll see that you don't sit down for a month, no matter how grown up you think you are. Now, take Anne into the sitting room and entertain her while I prepare some tea for us all."

A short time later, Gilbert and Anne sat in front of the fireplace. Her head was on his shoulder, and he stroked her hair with gentle fingers.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Anne turned to look at him, surprised. "Of course. Why?"

He looked into the fire thoughtfully. "Well, I wondered if you felt you needed to explain things to mother- and every time I leave the room, someone gets teary."

"Maybe that's just because you left the room." Anne teased, and he squeezed her shoulder.

"Undoubtedly. But I don't want you rehashing old pain, or things that we promised to put behind us."

Anne looked at him. "So you didn't talk to Marilla about any of this?" she asked evenly. His look was telling, and Anne sighed. "This is necessary right now, Gil. We're rebuilding relationships with each other's families, and we need to do that. Your mother isn't _making_ me talk, I want to. She needs to know me to trust me _with_ you."

Gilbert moved to kiss her gently, thrilling at the way her hands came up to hold him. He pulled away then, his heart beginning to pound. Maybe doing it here wasn't the worst idea- and it was getting harder and harder to keep silent when all he wanted to do was-

It was at that moment that Cora came in with a tray set with three cups, and Gilbert smiled in spite of himself. Patience, he thought. Surely he could be patient just a little longer. He settled down to talk with his mother and Anne, relishing the touch of her hand within his, and the look in her eyes that told him she wanted him as he wanted her.

* * *

Two days later, Gilbert and Anne walked up the pathway to Diana and Fred's house, both rugged up warmly in the brisk winter air, and her hand firmly in his.

"Are you sure we shouldn't have come earlier in the week?" Gilbert asked.

"Quite sure. Di wasn't feeling so well yesterday, she sent me a note to say that today would be better to come for lunch. Oh, and we're also invited to come for tea on Christmas Eve."

Gilbert shook his head. "Events, tea, parties…" he mock-grumbled. "Just when is a boy able to get some time alone with you?"

Anne laughed, slipping her arms around his waist at the little gate to the Wright house. "You told me we had to get all these first visits out of the way! And we were _certainly_ alone last night in the parlour. You made quite good use of your time then." she teased.

He pretended to be mollified. "It's a skill."

The door to the little house opened then, and Diana came to stand in the doorway, in time to see her dear friend in the arms of Gilbert Blythe, a sight she had been sure she would never see in this life. She stood there paralysed, and when Anne turned to see her she darted from Gilbert to run to her.

She met her with a big hug and pulled back to see Diana burst into tears.

"Why, Di darling, what is it?" Anne asked, bewildered.

Diana gestured futilely, as Gilbert came up the steps, with a tentative smile.

"It's you two!" she sobbed. "I mean, I always hoped it would happen, but I never expected to _see_ it, and now you're here and you're happy, and I'm so _happy_ for you-" at this point, Diana became completely incoherent, and Anne and Gilbert looked at each other in consternation. Much to their relief, Fred arrived at the door then, a sheepish smile on his face, to draw his wife and their guests inside.

"Come on Di, I thought you said you had it all out of your system?" he said patiently, and handed her a handkerchief. "Sorry, it's been happening a lot lately."

"I _did_. It was just unexpected." she said wiping her eyes, before putting yet another hanky in her pocket, and beaming at Anne. "Oh, _goodness_. Come and help me with the dinner things, Anne. Fred, didn't you want to get Gilbert to help you in the barn with something?"

Di concealed her tears admirably, watching the quick kiss on the cheek that Gilbert gave Anne, and the contented sigh she gave as he left the room after her husband. There was a second of silence before the girls grabbed each other's hands, squealing loudly as only best friends could.

"You love _Gilbert_!" Di squealed.

"And you're _pregnant_!" Anne cried back.

The two girls hugged again laughing, until Anne pulled away with a grin. "I wrote you weeks ago Di, you should be used to the news by now!"

Di tweaked her nose. "Yes, but it's a whole other thing to _see_ it, dearest. Promise me it's really happening?" she implored. "I've never seen either of you look this happy."

Anne's sigh was huge. "It's real. It's wonderfully, beautifully perfect. _And_ we have you to thank for the speed with which we arrived at an understanding." Anne said cheekily. "It may have taken a little longer without your letter, dearest."

Diana handed Anne some napkins, her smile huge. "I'm so glad, I was worried that you might never speak to me again," She teased. "You never appreciated that question before."

Anne laughed. "Well, I do have a very happily married best friend to observe now, maybe that helped! And now with a baby on the way…" she said, with a happy sigh. "What's it like, Di?" she asked eagerly.

Diana's eyes were huge, and she grabbed Anne's hands in hers. "Oh Anne, it's so _weird_! I keep crying all the time, and then I can't remember _why,_ I keep wanting to eat canned peaches in the middle of the night and so I _do,_ much to Fred's surprise; they tell me I will start to feel the baby soon, and I find myself wondering how I will know it's actually the baby; and then _these_!" Diana gestured to her chest, making Anne laugh hysterically. "I swear they are bigger than they were this time last week, if I keep going like this I'll fall over when I stand up!"

The two girls laughed giddily, and even harder when Fred's earnest face poked around the corner, followed by Gilbert.

"Di, I thought I heard you crying." Fred said awkwardly, while Gilbert raised an eyebrow at the two red-faced women.

"No, we're fine," Diana said, still giggling. "Run along, lunch will be ready soon." She turned back to Anne and pulled her into another hug. "Oh, it's so wonderful to have you here!"

* * *

Outside, Gilbert helped Fred to move the cattle between the pens Fred had been repairing in the warm shed.

"You know I'm not dressed for this, right?" Gilbert joked. His jacket was hanging on a hook with Fred's, a little too close to the hungry cows in his opinion.

"City boy."

Gilbert shoved his old school friend playfully. "Steady on, I was born not a mile from here."

Fred laughed. "Yeah, but I bet you hardly remember how to do your chores now."

"Hey, I've been playing the farmer for a fortnight now, remember." Gilbert said, heaving a sack of feed against the wall. "Dad won't be up for it for a few weeks, at least."

Fred straightened up, looking at Gilbert seriously. "I know. My father spoke to yours about letting us help him finish the barn roof, we didn't want him getting back up there for a time yet. My brother will help."

Gilbert slapped Fred on the shoulder, moved by his thoughtfulness. "Thanks."

"So, you and Anne."

Gilbert grinned. "Yeah."

Fred straightened up. "So when are you proposing?"

Gilbert's eyebrows rose. "You're the first to assume I haven't already _done_ it." he commented.

Fred chuckled. "If you _had_ Di would still be screaming. So I'm assuming you're waiting for something. Can you hand me that rope from over there?"

"I'm waiting to get some time on our own." he replied good-naturedly. "Social doings take up a fair bit of time whenever we come home."

"You didn't make much time for that for the last couple of years."

Gilbert sighed. "I know. I'm sorry I wasn't around."

"You missed quite a bit." Fred said, non-judgementally. "I was afraid you wouldn't even come back for the wedding."

There was a short silence. "I nearly didn't. I'm sorry."

Fred gave him a nudge, with a grin. "Look, you came. And it sounds like it was a good thing you did."

"I'll say."

Fred chuckled, and Gilbert looked at him suspiciously. "Did Diana tell you something?"

Fred laughed outright then. "Come on, Di couldn't keep that from me if she tried! I thought she was going to pull my arm out of its socket."

Gilbert rubbed his face sheepishly. "It really was unintentional. A godsend, but unintentional." He watched Fred fork some hay into the pens and continued thoughtfully. "I'm asking her soon."

"How soon?"

Gilbert grinned, as one of the farm dogs came up to lick his hand. "Next couple of days." He crouched down to greet the dog properly, and his face sobered. "You know I'm planning on medical school next year?"

Fred nodded, and it was his turn to watch Gilbert.

"How long's that?" he asked.

"Three years."

Fred whistled. "That's a long engagement, Gil."

"Same as yours."

"That's why I'm saying it." Fred said adamantly.

Gilbert sat down on the nearest bale of hay, soon joined by his friend.

"Still, you survived. Surely we can too." he said slowly.

That made Fred laugh. "Yeah, we did. And of course you will. But I'd be lying if I said it was easy." He kicked his feet out in front of him, thinking. "Three years is a long time. You change- and _she_ changes- and you have to stay on the same page throughout that time, or a marriage won't work." He gave a wry smile. "And when she wants you as much as you want _her-_ well, let's just say you'd better have some self-control up your sleeve."

Gilbert's eyebrows flew up, as he stared at his friend. "Really?"

Fred's ears were red by now, and he smiled sheepishly. "Really. We had some near misses."

Gilbert laughed now, feeling his own cheeks begin to flush. "I see."

"You just have to know _why_ you're waiting. Three years does eventually pass, and at least you'll be busy."

"You're not wrong about that." Gilbert muttered.

Fred looked out the barn doors to his little white house, and grinned. "Look, it's worth it, I promise. There'll be days where it seems to take forever, but it passes. And when you think about a lifetime together, it's not so bad."

He stood up then and grabbed his coat. "Come on, I can see Di waving us down. And guess what? One day it will be your house we're going to. You'd better come back to live in Avonlea, though. It'll cost us both a fortune in travel to keep the girls together, otherwise."

Gilbert laughed then as well. The picture of a home of his own, with a beautiful red-headed wife and children who looked just like her- now _that_ was worth working for.

As he crossed the threshold of the Wright farmhouse, his eyes found Anne in an apron, pulling something from the oven. He crossed to her side, and she straightened up, placing the warm pies on the bench.

Anne smiled at his closeness, not seeing the way both Fred and Diana had stopped to watch the two of them. "What is it?" she asked, softly.

His hand reached for her waist, and he bent to kiss her. "Nothing. Just daydreaming." Gilbert said, his eyes twinkling. "You've no idea how fun it can be."

Diana's amused voice came from the table, where she and Fred were waiting for the couple to finish. "Honestly, you two; you _know_ you can't carry on this way in front of others. Come and sit down, I need you to tell me _everything_ that happened between the two of you since you left here in September! And I will _know_ if you leave anything out!"

Anne crossed to the table with the pies and an innocent smile that made Gilbert laugh. "Diana, you know some things are meant to remain private."

"Not amongst kindred spirits, they aren't." Diana retorted. "Now, Mr Blythe, Miss Shirley start _talking_!"


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

The twenty-fourth of December dawned with a light snow, and Gilbert looked out from his bedroom window with a wry smile. It had held off all week, despite the heavy clouds that seemed to promise a blanket of white for Christmas, and of _course_ it would be today. As the light increased gradually in his room he began to dress, knowing the chores would be waiting for him outside. Gilbert cheerfully swung out of the house ten minutes later with the milking buckets, sniffing at the cold in the air as he crossed to the snug barn.

As he went about the chores, Gilbert's mind was occupied on the day ahead of him. To think, that of all of the plans he had made, _this_ was the one he would be following through with. His mind flicked briefly back to the beginning of September, seeing from the podium the red headed girl at the back of the crowd. He smiled proudly. Nearly four months together, four months of wooing his girl the way he had always dreamed of doing. Four months to rebuild who they were, four months to be entirely sure of each other's heart.

He'd thought about waiting until convocation, just as he had thought about proposing the night she told him she loved him. As he forked hay for the animals, he puzzled at the mystery of _timing_. It just wasn't right then. He couldn't say why, but he felt it. His lips twisted in amusement. Was it Anne's influence showing in him now, or did his practical side actually have an instinctive counterpart?

Loving her was never a decision that he had made- it had sprung from some unknown part of his thirteen-year-old heart, almost before he was old enough to understand what was happening. He'd watched her back then from afar, never knowing if she could forgive him, if she would ever see him as anything other than an enemy. A small part of him was still incredulous- he could never have foreseen how such a wretched beginning could end so happily.

When the chores were done, he stood for a moment at the doors of the barn, watching the light snow fall on the trees in front of him. He grinned. He hadn't planned it, but the snow could actually work in his favour.

* * *

Eight hours later, Anne stood waiting for Gilbert downstairs in the warm kitchen of Green Gables. Dora was sitting with Marilla working on some mending, while the older woman concentrated on her knitting in front of the fire.

"Are you sure you're dressed warmly enough?" Marilla asked.

"Oh, I think so. We're going for a walk in the woods, and then to Diana's for dinner tonight."

Marilla sighed. "And we don't have you for Christmas lunch tomorrow, either."

Anne came to put her arms around the older woman. "But you have me for the morning, and you have us _both_ for dinner tomorrow night," she said, with a smile.

Marilla looked at the girl fondly. "I'm not unhappy, you know that. We just miss you."

Anne's head rested on her shoulder for a few moments, before Marilla's usual reserved self took over.

"There now, child. There's no sense getting worked up about change."

"Davy's quite happy that Gilbert's coming." Dora volunteered surprisingly. "He thinks it's tough being the only boy."

Anne laughed and looked out of the kitchen window just as she heard the sound of a buggy. She watched a grinning Gilbert leapt down and jog up the path to the kitchen door, coming inside to greet the women of the house.

"I thought we were walking, Gil!" she said in surprise.

"That was the plan; however, I thought we might get cold later on." he said cheerfully, bending to kiss her cheek. "Marilla, Dora, how are you?"

Dora smiled and nodded her head shyly, still not accustomed to the return of the big handsome fellow she remembered visiting Green Gables as a child, and even less accustomed to Anne's affectionate welcoming of him now. Still, she was so very happy- something Dora was glad to see.

There had been a moment last summer when she had witnessed a different Anne. One afternoon, a week before she would return to college, Dora had been asked to call her for tea. She had tiptoed out to the rear of the house, hoping to not wake Mrs Lynde, who was snoring in the parlour after a headache that morning. She found Anne sitting on the back steps, and Dora froze, seeing Anne's head in her hands, and hearing the little, muffled sobs.

She didn't know if she should get Marilla, or if Anne would want company right now, but her little heart broke seeing tall, serene Anne in tears. Eventually she opened the door noiselessly and came to sit beside her, putting her ten-year-old arm around her silently. It was a few minutes before she spoke.

"Are you alright, Anne?" she whispered.

Anne smiled as best as she could. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm fine." Dora's little face looked at her wistfully, and Anne's eyes flooded again. "It's just that- sometimes things don't always go the way you expect them to. And it hurts a little." she said softly.

Dora placed her head against Anne's shoulder, and Anne put her arms around the girl. They sat there for long minutes until an exasperated Marilla came to search for the pair of them. Dora looked up before Anne did, and she met Marilla's eyes in apology. Marilla seemed to understand, she hadn't scolded them both; she only told them that it was time to get washed up for tea.

Now Anne had a glow on her face all the time, and Dora in her own quiet way rejoiced over it. Besides, Minnie May had been putting on airs about her _married_ older sister for such a long time. She couldn't wait to tell her who was courting Anne!

* * *

Meanwhile, Anne was settled happily beside Gilbert as they drove through lines of bare trees, grey skies highlighting dark green firs on the nearby hills.

"It's such a beautiful Christmas Eve, Gil." Anne said with a little smile. "I should ask where are you taking me, though."

"Somewhere we can be alone." he said, raising his eyebrows.

Anne chuckled, and tucked her hand under his arm. "You _are_ a lad of one idea." she teased.

A few minutes later, Anne looked at Gilbert with enormous eyes, when he pulled up the horse and buggy in an old shed, once used to house the schoolmaster's carriage.

He took her hand and helped her down from the buggy, and began to lead her towards the little schoolhouse, where a small stream of smoke was coming from the little chimney pipe. Anne had not spoken in all this time, and as he pulled the key from his pocket she opened her mouth to protest. He kissed her swiftly.

"I promise we are here with permission this time." he said, with a grin. "Jane's replacement is a young man from Carmody, and I appealed to his sense of romance."

He led her through the door, and Anne began to laugh, seeing the warm fire, a comfortable rug and a picnic basket on the floor in front of the hearth.

"I think I have been conspired against." Anne commented, undoing the buttons of her winter coat.

"You have." He watched her walk through the familiar room and was pleased when she sat down in front of the stove, beckoning him to her with a little smile. "What made you think of this place?"

Gilbert sat down with a grin after removing his heavy coat as well. "Well, I tried to think about where you could go in winter where you could guarantee no interruptions, as well as keeping a roof over our heads so we didn't freeze to death. Here seemed the best solution, and young Mr Anderson was most understanding."

Anne watched him, her eyes tender. The room was comfortingly warm and light, and she couldn't help but contrast it with the way it had been the last time they were there. Little words kept coming back to her as she looked around, little shards of hurt and bitterness that had filled the old classroom.

 _You let go, you moved on- You replaced me with_ _him_ _\- I didn't think you cared- How_ _little_ _you valued me._

She gave a little shiver, and he wrapped her in his arms again.

"I know. I hear it too." he whispered. "But we're not there anymore, we know that."

Anne looked up at him wonderingly. "How did you know?"

He sighed, holding her close. "Because when I came here earlier to light the fire it happened to me as well. All I could hear were the words we spoke, and I remembered you crying." His brown curls brushed hers as he rested his forehead against her head. Anne's wistful eyes came up to meet his, and she pulled him closer to kiss him, coming to her knees to put her arms around him. For a few minutes they forgot their surroundings in each other's touch, wanting to reassure, to be reassured that they were safe again. Eventually Gilbert pulled away from her, his breathing uneven.

"Alright sweetheart, this is _probably_ a good place to stop."

She laughed lightly. "You think so?"

He chuckled. "Not all of me agrees, however we do have a little business to discuss."

She sat back down with a little smile, and he sat beside her, her hand in his again. He brought her hand up to kiss it, and smiled.

"I wanted us to be somewhere where no one else could interrupt us. We are so _terribly_ popular, that it seems we aren't able- or as far as Mrs Lynde is concerned, we aren't _allowed-_ to be by ourselves. And as much fun as that is, it makes it quite hard to ask you what I want to ask you." Gilbert said dryly.

Anne's eyes were big, and she couldn't help a shivery smile.

"So that's why we are where no one except us would think to look for us. And thanks to the snow, no one will even notice the smoke from the chimney." Anne chuckled at the mischievous look on his face. He was silent for a moment then, his face becoming more serious. "Now, I think we've spent enough time- especially in this room- talking about our past. I want to talk about our future."

His eyes were warm as they looked into hers, and he took her other hand.

"You are the girl I fell in love with right here, ten years ago. You inspired me, you pushed me to succeed, and you became the most wonderful friend I have ever had in my life." He gave her the twisted smile that reminded her of the boy he had been. "I've been dreaming about a future for us for years- and for a long time I thought it couldn't happen." Anne felt the slight shake in his hands, and as he paused she gripped his hands tightly, a reminder that she was with him. He looked up at her, and her heart melted seeing the tears standing in his bright hazel eyes.

"I'm dreaming of you. Every part of my future has you in it- you're the one I'm working for, the one I'm hoping for. I'm dreaming of a home that is _ours_ \- a little house where you and I learn what it is to be together for always." His cheeks flushed, and he pulled her hand up to kiss it again, loving the little sigh she gave as he did so. "I'm dreaming of a life where we share _everything_ \- every hurt, every joy we experience as one. Where you and I will know each other perfectly- where nothing can ever come between us." Gilbert pulled his hands from hers, and placed gentle hands on her face, wiping away the single tear that fell down from sparkling grey eyes. His face was close to hers, and he closed his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers. He spoke softly. "Anne, you know me, and I know you. I won't keep the deepest parts of my heart from you- or the deepest dreams. You're in there. I'm dreaming of you and I marrying- of the two of us making love- of our baby growing inside you. Of us becoming a father and mother, surrounded by children, and a home so full of love that you wonder how we even fit the furniture inside."

Anne looked up at him with a tremulous smile.

"You dream of that?" she asked softly.

His answering smile was huge. "You know I do." Anne's arms crept around his neck, and Gilbert's arms tightened around her. "And every one of those children has perfectly red hair." he whispered, with a bright grin. She laughed, and wove her fingers through his brown curls.

"Oh, no you don't, Gilbert Blythe. _My_ dream children have your hazel eyes and your lovely brown hair."

Gilbert's eyes were tender as he stroked her waist, his breath quickening. "Anne, I kept trying to find a way to ask you this that's as lovely and romantic as you deserve, but I can't do it. All I can tell you, is what is in the core of my heart." His eyes were on hers then, a burning look that went straight through her, making her quiver.

"I love you, Anne. Please say you will be my wife."

Anne pulled herself to him, her eyes soft with desire, and her voice scarcely higher than a whisper. "Yes, Gil. I will." She pressed her lips to his fervently. His breath came quickly as he held her to him, words falling that seemed to spill from his heart.

"Oh, my girl- my darling Anne." he said huskily, between breathless kisses. "Anne, you're my love, my _home_."

Anne's heart was pounding, and she broke into a sweet laugh. "As you are mine. Gilbert, is this real? Did we wake this morning?" she asked him softly, and then laughed again as he pulled her down on to the little blanket. Her arms were around him tightly, and grey eyes looked into hazel ones contentedly.

Gilbert kissed her once more, and then lay back on the ground with a big sigh that made both of them chuckle. She put her head on his shoulder, trying to catch her breath again.

"We did it." Gilbert said, in a tone of satisfaction, and laughed. "We did it- we're engaged!" he yelled into the empty room.

Anne tipped her head back to look at him, with a little laugh. "You do know what you are getting into, don't you? Mrs Lynde will try to be an extra mother-in-law to you." she said dryly.

Gilbert grinned, looking guilty. "You have yet to meet Dad's cousin, Aunt Mary Maria. She's less than fun as well."

Anne stroked his cheek. "As long as I have you, I will face anything."

Gilbert raised himself on one elbow to look into her beautiful face. His voice was sober. "Even a three-and-a-half-year engagement, _if_ I win that scholarship? Could you wait for me if it was longer?"

Anne reached up to hold his face, now hovering just above hers. Her voice was tender. "I will wait _any_ length of time for you, Gilbert Blythe. I will work by your side, I will study with you, I will be there when things go wrong. I promise you, for every tomorrow that comes, I will be with you."

He smiled at her tenderly, lowering his head to kiss her again. "And I you." He sighed and lay back beside her, her hand tightly clasped in his. They both stared up at the cracked ceiling, slowly coming to terms with the fulfilment of their dreams.

"Gilbert? May I tell you something?" Anne said after a while, thoughtful.

He turned his head to smile at her. "Of course."

"It _is_ about the past." she admitted. "Since you left Kingsport, I've been thinking about all those years ago- all of those times I wouldn't let you speak; when I wouldn't let us become closer. All the times I pushed you away."

"Sweetheart, we don't need to go there, especially now-" Gilbert protested. "That's done with."

Anne shook her head, and gave him a stubborn look that he recognised well. "And what if I could tell you _why_?" she asked.

He sighed, and came up on one elbow to watch her patiently. "Alright then, _why_?"

"You know I understand things better in stories." she said, her voice soft. "I've been puzzling for a while on the fact that you were so many steps ahead of me. And I know that there were reasons for that. I had to be on my own, to survive on my own. I didn't know how to rely on anyone- I didn't really know how to trust. When we became friends, you went deeper, quicker than anyone else ever had." she said, watching the firelight play on his thoughtful face. "And as my friend, that answered something in me, something that craved for the kind of kindred I found in you. It healed something in me- or rather, it _began_ to."

Gilbert watched her in silence, wanting to understand her innermost thoughts.

"There are all kinds of transformation stories that speak about this." she said dreamily. "The helper, the friend has to transform himself, has to change in order for the spell to be broken over the princess. And you were doing your part- you were trying to transform. But I wouldn't let you." Her eyes found his, and his hand brushed a red curl from her face lovingly. "You as my friend broke down so many boundaries, but there were some I couldn't let you near- and it was the _lover_ I was most terrified of. I feared that would break down the last of my walls, that every brokenness inside would be exposed." Her smile was sad, and she sighed. "I didn't know that the one thing I needed to truly heal was the thing I was most afraid of. To let you into all of my damage, all of the cracked places in me. And only the lover could fix that."

His look was tender; however, Anne wasn't finished. "But there came a point, long after most of the walls were broken down right here in this room, when I _saw_ you. I saw you transform into the lover. I was blindsided by it- and I didn't know how to respond. I didn't know that you loved me, and I didn't realise that I loved you yet."

Anne smiled at the puzzled look on his face, and her own suddenly burned with the heat of her blush. "It was a few months ago. We were hiding from a very affectionate Phil and Jo in the little dining room, and you stood behind me." Her voice faltered now, wondering if she could manage to speak out what had happened to her. "Your hand came around my waist, and it rested- it rested on me."

Gilbert's eyes were huge, and she saw that he remembered the moment. Taking a deep breath, she reached out to take his hand and gently placed it on her belly, both of them feeling the quiver in each other's hand. She held it there while looking trustingly into his eyes, her voice quiet. "When you did that, I saw _us_. I somehow saw your hand resting on me, and on our child. I saw you change from the Gilbert I had always known into this stranger, who somehow carried a piece of my heart away with him that night." She sighed then, a movement that thrilled him as he felt her body move under his hand.

"And when Diana wrote those words to me, she made me see that I had to allow you to be that for me- that I had to allow myself to become that for you. She was right- although I had always loved you, I had to choose to let myself fall in love with Gilbert Blythe."

Unable to hold back anymore, Gilbert bent over her, his hand sliding to her side. He kissed her with a tender passion that spoke more to her than any words could, of the dreams and hopes taking shape before them both. When he finally pulled away and one of her gentle hands stroked the curve of his jaw, Gilbert smiled.

"I once asked for one more day with you." he said softly. "I was crazy. It would never have been enough. Anne, you've made every hope I ever had come true- you brought me back to life again."

Anne sat up then, turning to take his hand, with a big smile. "Who will get to hear the news first?" she teased, and Gilbert laughed.

"Well, since we are due at the Wright's for dinner in approximately one hour, I suggest we make the most of the opportunity and tell them first."

"And what will we do until then?" Anne said, her face looking innocent.

Gilbert's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure we'll think of something."

While the gentle snow fell outside the old schoolhouse, Gilbert pulled a laughing Anne close to him in a way that would have made most of the schoolmasters and mistresses of Avonlea frown in dismay. All except one- for Muriel Stacey, who had waylaid a certain young man after the Commencement exercises on the last day of Queen's. She had looked fondly at one of her prize pupils, noting the way his hazel eyes had wistfully followed a tall, red headed girl.

"May I give you one last piece of advice, Gilbert?" she asked.

He gave her a grin that lacked some enthusiasm, and she put a firm hand on his arm to get his attention.

"Life has a way of surprising us all, Mr Blythe. I'll tell you what I once told someone special. Tomorrow is a brand new day. There's _always_ another day."

* * *

 _ **Tadaaaaa!**_

 **I hope that I have managed to land the first part of this AU satisfyingly, it has been something that has challenged me constantly.**

 **I am at this point quite speechless. Thirty chapters in three months! No one is more shocked than I am, and especially at the responses people have given. I'm glad you have enjoyed this, and I'm even gladder that this AU isn't over yet. I'm terribly excited about writing the sequel, I've named it** _ **When Tomorrow Comes-**_ **coming to an internet near you soon. It will begin where this one leaves off, and I hope to have you join me on that one as well.**

 **Thank you all so much for reading, and for the comments that have helped me to shape this story. Many of your ideas and requests have been woven in, and I have rejoiced at your words and made my husband sit through reading them all as well. (he's a very patient sort.)**

 **Lastly, especial thanks to three people on here- For Julie, whose honest and insightful comments always made me think and focus better; for Hecalledmecarrots who absolutely** _ **rocks**_ **the multiple stories and has been a joy to bounce ideas off in our email conversations, and lastly for Katherine-with-a-K- who gave me the push I needed to write it, for encouraging the very greenest of the Annegirls, and for telling me the truth when I very much needed to hear it. This story would not be what it is without your instincts, and I am so incredibly grateful.**


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